Destroying Angels
by AnnaW14
Summary: Jace and Clary have a long history together. After a painful life, Clary finally snaps. While on her self-destructive path she reunites with her long time love. Can he help her, or will he simply break her further. All Mundane- rated M for abuse, self-mutilation, drug use and overall dark/adult themes.
1. Prologue: Hells Gate

Prologue: Hell's Gate-

In New York, a city always busy, no one notices the hidden secrets beneath. It is easy to get distracted by the bright lights. A person can enter a dimly lit club in the sleazy underworld, get lost in the most private of thoughts as strange substances drip down your throat, choking like poison. You follow a stranger home, feel loved and leave an hour later feeling a piece of your soul remain. The shadows stretch themselves farther away as the sun falls, igniting another world. The sun abandons the wanderers, without a heat source they turn to each other. They turn their backs and leave their own.

This is what Clarissa Morgenstern knew all too well. She wandered down these very empty streets, winding her way to that part of town that young ladies are warned about. The rain matted her hair to her face, leaving it in strings. As she walked, a group of men called out to her. They had noticed her slight figure, outlined by her soaked clothing, and pressing in on itself. Intrigued by her elven features, deep red hair and small height, one of the bolder men asked for a ride. An easy target for midnight desires. Clary gently brushed off his advances; he is not in for a chase tonight.

Despite her cold exterior, the man's action brings back long lost memories. Hands that grip too tightly and cold eyes that gaze too greedily; she shivers at the memory of her family. Simultaneously, a pair of gold eyes flits through her mind, bringing a feeling of ice to her heart. The small girl frowns but brushes this off and turns a familiar corner. The refreshing sight of the club brings a small smile to her delicate lips. Soon she could escape from reality, no longer think of her father and _him. _She pauses before entering the dark stairwell. She once compared the entrance to Pandemonium to the gate into Hell: easy to access, impossible to escape. She grinned, a sly look entering her eyes, as she though about the coming night. Clary entered without looking back.

**Hey, this is my first fic so don't be mean. I'm still trying to figure out where this is going. If you want me to continue please review. If not, I may continue writing anyway because I know this prologue doesn't say much about the plot. Hopefully further chapters will explain more. It's also important to read the author's note after each one because they may explain certain things. I also have a ton of ideas to write about that I have yet to see on this site so hopefully I can write those as well. Let me know if you need clarification on anything. Thanks lovelies! -Anna**


	2. Pandemonium

The thrum of the music made Clary's heart quicken and her bones melt. She half-heartedly threw her coat on the rack, exposing her lace thigh stockings, leading to a tight black dress. Her makeup was smudged haphazardly making it look as though she had just woken up from a wild night. _That assumption isn't wrong_ she thought with a small smile. As she wove her way through the crowds of sweaty grinding bodies several hands descended on her waist. Though appreciating the warmth, they were not why she was here.

Clary spotted her newest dealer, Marcus. A tall and handsome man of 27; he had given her a low price for the small pills she craved. Over the past two weeks she had known him, he had become quite infatuated with her, even making several advances. She had yet to acknowledge this, though she didn't really care.

As she made her way toward him, he looked up and gave her a devilish grin, sending shivers through her skin. " Hello Clare-" he whispered into her ear- his breath moving through her hair "-you ready for some fun?" Instead of answering she pulled his lips to hers, giving him a brief taste of what he had wanted. While she pulled away, he gripped her waist and quickly licked the sensitive skin by her ear. While he did this he slipped a small bag into her hand. "It's free just for that kitten" his nickname tugged at her dignity, but she did nothing to correct it. Clary lowered her eyes seductively and without saying anything pulled him to the corner. He sat on the dirty leather sofa, pulling her to his lap. Clary reached into the bag and pulled out two perfect pink pills.

"I have my own sweetie- don't want to waist your precious stock"

"I wasn't offering" was all she responded with.

He grinned at her placing one on his tongue; she mirrored his actions and leaned over kissing him and switching pills. She pulled back and quickly swallowed the second one. As she leaned in, Marcus' hand traveled up the back of her thigh, pushing her dress up and spreading heat through her body. This was the only way she could feel- she allowed it to happen. As she moaned lightly, Clary looked up and a flash of gold caught her eye.

It couldn't be him- could it? No, don't kid yourself. He left you… he isn't coming back.

This though made her feel sad-no-that wasn't enough. The feeling had mustered its way through the layers of pain that had accumulated over the years. It was a flash of pain and grief through the emptiness. Something that made her want to claw at her own skin for release. Pushing this away she pulled Marcus from the couch wanting to forget. By now the pills had kicked in. Colors blurred together, bodies morphed into inhuman shapes and the sound of bliss reached new heights.

The 19 year old girl of 5 ft. lead the 6 ft tall man to the center of the dance floor. Here she spun around and pressed her body to his. Moving with lithe grace, she let him trail his hands down her body. She reached up on her toes to press her mouth to his neck and bite down, earning a growl in return. Other men approached only to be shoved away by Marcus. Clary found that she liked the way his hands gripped her hips and his eyes watched her. As she spun around, her gaze locked on something out of place. Trying to make sense of what it was through her jumbled mind, and froze.

There he was. The boy she had loved. Staring back—if only for the briefest of moments before smirking and turning to the girl at his side.

Clary recovered quickly and dragged Marcus to the backroom.

As Jace wove through the crowd he let his mind wander. This was not something he usually did, as his thoughts often turned to her. Silky red hair fell over an elegant neck, reaching the soft curve of her back. He could remember her velvety skin slipping under his fingers as she watched him with mossy eyes. He smiled sadly as he remembered what he did- and froze- he shouldn't think about that, she deserved it- he deserved it.

When he reached the bar with his latest conquest he flashed his best smile. She trailed her hand up his chest. She pressed herself to him. She kissed his neck. He didn't remember her name… something like Hannah-no- Stana- that was it.

Jace brought her to the dance floor as some loud music thrummed and the strobes flashed, making it impossible to see straight. He let his desires take over, roaming her body and imagining it was someone else. As his gaze wondered he caught sight of a flash of familiar red. He only knew one person whose hair was that shade of deep crimson.

Jace released the girl and followed without thinking. A strange feeling verging on desperation enveloped him as he searched for the girl. Even if it wasn't her, a red head would still be better than this girl with died pink hair.

He caught site of her, and his heart involuntarily fluttered. She looked different. Clary had always been too thin in his opinion, but he liked that about her. This was different; she had lost that spark of life in her. He skin was tight over sharp cheekbones and her breasts smaller- he smirked- he felt bad for thinking this. Her eyes were closed and her neck hung back as she wove toward the crowd for a man that looked too old for her. She would only be 19 now, she shouldn't be here. He reminded himself that she had never been too innocent, only on the outside. He was partially responsible. Jace had helped ruin her.

Despite this, he still felt angered when she kissed the other man. Clenching his fist he was about to rip him off of her when the girl, Stana, wrapped her arms around him and whispered sweet fantasies in his ear. He latched his lips onto hers and lost himself in the moment. Pulling up to take a breath he opened his eyes and locked with a pair of familiar eyes. Flashing in the light he only glimpsed flashes of her as she danced with the boy. Just as quickly as she had been there she was gone in a flurry of sweat and sex. Jace realized he had subconsciously smirked and drove her away _again_.

It was hot in the back room. Clary pulled Marcus against her as she sat back on a table. He fitted himself between her legs; glad she hadn't worn anything underneath. Though his hands roaming over her thighs brought back memories of her father, Clary ignored the thoughts screaming for her to stop and moaned. She pushed off his shirt and felt the sweat matting his back slip through her fingers. He chuckled as she undid his belt and made quick work of his pants.

The smaller girl hesitated briefly, but quickly allowed him to enter her. She wanted to forget, not to care. He was here and she shouldn't mind.

Clary's breathing was heavy as light moans came form her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair bringing his chest to hers. She placed her chin on his shoulder and clutched at his back. His muscles straining against her as he stood. She stopped feeling him there; she was only a girl in a tunnel.

Suddenly the door swung open and Jace stood there with a strange look on his face. She met his eyes and smirked before moaning and biting down on a shoulder. Marcus didn't matter, only the anger in Jace's eyes did.

He was gone and soon Marcus was too. He had what he wanted from her.

Clary found herself wandering through the streets of New York alone again.

**Hey, the next chapter should explain what between our favorite couple. I know Clary is a mess right now, but she will get better (a little). This story is pretty heavy so be warned.**

**Clary is 19**

**Jace 21**

**Marcus 27-(yikes)**

**Other characters will be introduced later. Love you forever.**


	3. Histories

Histories-

**This took place before the first 2 chapters **

It was lunchtime. Jace had skipped his morning classes in favor of smoking in the park. His friends soon began approaching to gather in what they jokingly called a '_wolf pack'_. His adoptive sister Isabelle arrived first, resting her head against Jace's brick wall and pulling out a cigarette, not uttering a single word. Isabelle was the type of girl that knew she was beautiful. Her long black hair hung below her small waist, meeting a pair of long legs that seemed to never stop. Her brother, Alec, arrived next, matching her easy grace. Magnus and Simon came by 10 minutes later. The contrast between the two was strange; Magnus wearing too much tight leather and Simon with his gawky glasses and baggy t-shirts. Isabelle had always had a soft spot for the kid, though Jace never understood it. Maia, a curvy girl with caramel skin, and her boyfriend Jordan eventually made it, completing the social outcasts. No one approached them because they only consorted within their ranks; they never had time for anyone else. They looked out for each other. They got in trouble for each other. They fought each other.

A silent agreement took place, dictating that they would not return to the school that day. Living in a bad part of town meant that there was always something interesting somewhere.

Alec and Jace swiftly bought liquor, flashing fake cards at the uncaring counter man. The others had gone ahead in search of any nearby dealers. It was Friday night; they wanted to have fun. Alec had run ahead, catching up to the rest of them while Jace took his time. Jace watched a rock skid from under his shoe and come to a stop at the base of a set of steps. As he walked, Jace surveyed the area and the growing darkness. Something caught his gaze to the side. A girl. She sat on the porch of what he assumed to be her house. Angry shouts and crashes came form inside, though she didn't seem to notice. Jace took in her small frame. Something about the darkness in her eyes and bright hair drew him toward her. She reminded Jace of himself in some sick and twisted way. It was then that he noticed the fingerprint shaped bruises that littered her neck and wrists. He could mirror the emptiness of her eyes.

She held a cigarette in her hand, revealing the neat scratches on her arms, too neat to be accidental. She couldn't be more than 15. As he passed her, Jace heard a soft "hey" and turned around. The girl approached him furtively, much like a small animal attempting to distinguish friend from foe. The top of her head only reached to the middle of his chest, Jace was sure that he could easily throw her several feet. The idea wasn't appealing.

"Where are you going?"

"To meet my friends, want to come?" He didn't know why he asked but he couldn't take it back now—he didn't want to.

Instead of answering the girl leaned up and pulled my lips down to hers. The kiss was hungry, like she had been starving her entire life—He didn't doubt that she had. The girl pulled back and smiled innocently "I needed that—I'm Clary"

"Jace" was all he could said back. Her voice was small and sweet, the way she kissed wasn't really. He liked her.

The rest of the night was somewhat jumbled in my memory. He remembered sitting in the park with his group and Clary. He never stopped touching her. It became addicting so quickly. Everything she said, every move she made, Jace was there. He had never attached himself to a girl before. He had simply _had_ them and then pushed them away, getting away with it because of his looks. Being over 6 ft tall with golden curls and a face like the statue of David had its perks.

Soon after that night Clary became a companion of ours. Isabelle descended on her giving her clothes and makeup. Clary stopped wearing t-shirts in favor of dresses and knee high socks with boots. They became her signature as well as a simple smoky eye. She wore her hair long like Isabelle.

As we got to know each other better I learned more about her. Her father abused her in ways that no father should. Touched her with force and not affection. It made Jace's blood boil. Clary always came to his arms after her father hurt her. The two of them would spend hours walking by themselves talking and usually kissing. This always led to other things. She trusted me. Jace fell in love with the scent of coconut that resided in her hair as a pleasant musk, her silken skin, and her bright hair. Jace loved watching her face when she lay beneath him, knowing that he had evoked the soft noises from her throat. H knew how to make her writhe and she knew what made him weak. Time progressed slowly as he fell in love with her smile and her laugh, her art and the way he could feel her ribcage. He knew the arch of her neck like it was the back of his hand. He _knew_ Clary and loved her for it, soon realizing that he simply loved Clary. All of her perfection and all of her imperfection drove him through the days.

For a while it seemed like she was doing better, no longer craving death and destruction. Jace made her feel better, until she turned back to the blade.

One day, Isabelle introduced Clary to the power of the pill. She began relying on them for feeling and comfort. She stopped coming to Jace, making him angry and unwanted. Jace started throwing insults at her, losing his temper more than once. She forgave him, but continued retreating. It was then that Jace discovered her return to self-mutilation. She liked burning herself. She liked cutting herself. Worst of all, she liked making her father angry so he would hurt her, she always laughed during these episodes. Jace caught her in the act one day. He remembered grasping the blade and throwing it across the floor. The cold exterior she had built up came crumbling down. Her face fell and all the strength left her eyes. She collapsed in a small heap in his arms and sobbed for hours. During her fit Jace felt a piece of him snap. His self-destructive habits returned in full force, throttling his insides. He had screamed at her for the tears, for the sadness, and the abuse. She couldn't even take the loss of a single razor. Jace hurt himself best by hurting her. She deserved it… He did too.

Later that night he was called to the hospital. Clary had taken 71 of Isabelle's pills. She wanted to die because of him, so he left without going back. That was the last time he had seen her.

She was 17, He was 19.

Jace Lightwood woke up from his dream. Stana was tucked under his arm. He wondered why his mind made him relive his worst memories. Jace hated himself. He didn't deserve to sleep.

He thought about what he had seen earlier at the club. Clary pressed to some creep, moaning and biting. Jace had liked it when it had only been him that received that kind of attention. He felt jealousy burn through him and dug his nails into Stana's smooth back. She whimpered in her sleep but did not otherwise stir.

After Clary's failed suicide attempt, Jace had simply walked. For days he had traveled, thinking about ways to make it up to her. He had made her love him, and then he threw her away when she needed him most. He had never told her how he felt. She probably thought that he played with her. She wasn't wrong, but it had been accidental.

Wanting to make himself feel better he roughly woke Stana up by pressing his fingers between her legs. When her eyes opened he thrust through her, making her fingers into claws that raked his body, from then on the night turned into a heated clash of passion and howling. If his neighbors had been doing anything different they would have called the cops. Briefly Jace pictured Clary there. Pressed beneath him and arching her back, she would whisper his name and grip his hair. He had never wanted something so badly.

After finding his relief, Jace quickly shuffled the pink haired girl from his apartment and once more went for a walk.

After the incident with Marcus, Clary simply wandered. She kissed a few boys the called for her; she never really felt like staying around though. She was only interested in being with one person. After seeing the look on Jace's face when he saw her she felt sick. He still felt something; even if it was only enough to be jealous and angry. Numbly she wondered if he had gone home with that pink haired girl. She wasn't angry with the girl. It was easy to fall for is charms when he looked and felt that good. He was a master of deception, hiding the beast that lay beneath.

As she walked, she realized that she now approached _the_ wall. This was the very wall where she had first met Jace's friends. At this thought a flash of pain, like a burn, went through her as she remembered Isabelle. How could she forget the girl that had been so good to her? She hadn't seen her since Clary had gotten out of the hospital. Clary had simply run away and never come back. She bet that the raven-haired beauty hated her now. Clary didn't blame her or really anyone for that.

Mimicking her teen self, Clary leaned up against the wall and pulled out a cigarette. As she inhaled she let her head fall back and gazed at the sky. Clary looked down and froze for the second time that night.

Jace was briskly walking by, taking no notice of his surroundings. Overcome with emotion, Clary straightened and called out a simple "hey". Jace stiffened at the sound of her voice. He slowly turned to face her. "Clary" was all he said. It wasn't a question, just a statement.

She approached slowly, afraid that if she pushed him he would disappear forever. He was the scared animal this time, not her. Eventually she stood in front of him. Even in her heels the top of her head only reached half an inch above his shoulders. Tentatively she reached her hand out and smoothed a piece of his hair back the way she knew he liked. His gaze softened.

"You look the same… a little older is all."

"And you look like you've stopped eating again" was all he said in response.

A brief and sad smile graced her features as se let out a quick breath. Looking down she whispered a quick apology and turned to leave.

His hand shot out and gripped her elbow. Ignoring the flinch he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be cold. It's just-" he paused "this is our first meeting since… it happened and I'm not really sure what to say."

She just gazed up at him for a time before responding, "I simply cannot forgive you" and walked away. She was acutely aware that as her body left the small circle of light cast by the streetlamp that his golden eyes were watching her. She also heard his frustrated cries as he beat a trashcan.


	4. The Bone Chandelier

The Bone Chandelier-

The more he thought about her, the more he wanted her back. Jace missed the sweet smell she carried with her and the way her eyes lit when she genuinely smiled. He wanted to run his fingers over the planes of her stomach and kiss every scar on her body. He wanted to protect her from the darkness of her mind and the world, tell her that everything would be all right. Jace wanted to love her again and never let her go. He wanted to make sure he never tried to hurt her again. Sadly he was doing none of these things. After their second meeting, he simply headed home and showered. Numbly he removed his clothing and stepped into his bed and simply lay there. He wondered what she was doing and then brushed that thought away as he remembered her underneath that other man. Jace simply allowed his thoughts to wash over him. Surround him. Drown him. He flitted off to sleep with images of a pretty crimson haired girl branded into his eyelids.

- Next day

Jace slowly awoke to a pale scattering of light across his bedroom. He blinked several times to allow his eyes to focus and when they did he realized he had slept for the entire day. Groaning he sat up and watched for a few minutes as the sun descended beyond the horizon. It would be time to drink soon. Sighing he made his way to the kitchen and picked up several pieces of bread. He set to work making a sandwich with left over chicken from several nights ago. Grimacing at the memory of a blond slut simply raving about the dish in question, Jace yawned deeply and arched his back, allowing his muscles and joints to pop. He was about to eat when he heard a familiar ring. Hurrying back to his bedroom Jace plucked it off the floor where he had dropped it and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jace," it was Isabelle, "I was just thinking that we hadn't seen you in a while now. I wanted to invite you out with Simon and I. Is that okay?"

I paused before answering "It would be nice to see you again Izzy…is tonight okay?"

"Sure, we'll stop by around 10?"

She hung up without hearing his answer. Jace had always thought it strange the she would go for someone like Simon. Jace didn't really mind, who ever his sister chose to sleep with and love was none of his business. She had always thought he was sweet. She had also thought Clary was sweet. _She was right_ was all he thought. His thoughts had once more turned to Clary. With an exasperated sigh, Jace realized that the moment she saw him she would know that something happened. He would be unable to avoid answering her questions.

Sighing, Jace stepped into the shower in hopes of scrubbing away his worries.

When Clary woke up she simply stared at the ceiling for a bit. As her mind came into focus, the dull throb of last night's events crept back into her hands and arms. Rolling over she examined the bandages, gently fingering the folds of the material. She wasn't quite sure what to make of her little "vision" but she did know one thing. She wanted to forget.

This would require several things.

1) A very strong, very potent and mind altering beverage.

2) An illegal and probably harmful drug.

3) LOUD music and bright lights.

4) Any random guy that came on to her.

For a moment she paused. She would have to explain the fresh cuts on her arms to the man she chose to go home with. No, they never asked… they never cared. Her thoughts turned to the men she would select to _help_ her. There was a rather large difference between the guys that were Clary's type, and the guys that she would get with. She didn't deserve someone sweet and kind and caring…like _him_. She deserved the kind of guy that would use her. That would degrade her. That would throw her away. So long as he was clean-shaven, Clary was good to go.

Chuckling at this one preference that she would not back down on, Clary thought about Jace's smooth face: the kind of smooth only obtainable by way of cutthroat razor. How she wanted a cutthroat razor. She was afraid to but one because she knew what it would mean. She would have lost that small will to live and would most certainly take her own life. Wondering how her thoughts had turned from bedfellows to suicide, Clary stepped out of the safety of her bed and began readying herself for tonight's escapades.

_ Later that Night (11:00 PM)

Clary had only heard rumors about this place. _The Bone Chandelier _was infamous for being the best place in New York to find drugs, booze and sex. No one here would care about what she did and whom she did it with. She knew that she wouldn't find Jace here. He was far too good. Based on what she knew from an acquaintance, you could only get in if the thugs out front deemed that you had the _right _look. This didn't necessarily mean clothing, but rather if they thought your personality was right. How they could measure this, she had no idea.

As she walked, heels clicking on the ground, Clary passed a shop window. Thinking she saw a small abnormal flicker, she paused, examining her reflection. Deeming that nothing was wrong, Clary continued. As she walked she passed more windows, she became increasingly aware that her reflection was not alone. She paused once more slowly turned to face her follower. The _other_ was already facing her. As soon as the girls met eyes, Clary felt a strange sensation spread through her body. She didn't feel whole. With a sick realization, Clary realized she was no longer on the street, but rather watching her real self. Clary couldn't control herself, only mirror the other girl as she gently kissed Clary on the forehead, leaving a deep red lipstick stain behind.

"Don't worry _sweetie_, I'll take good care of you. Nice shoes by the way" The girl walked off and Clary had no choice but to follow.

When they neared the club, the girls noticed the rather long line out front. Many of the people looking to get in had dressed up in a wide array of costumes. Leather, studs, hair gel and platforms seemed to be a popular choice. Clary watched as the other girl paused briefly before a determined look crossed her face. She stepped forward with much more confidence than Clary normally would have and marched straight up to the bouncer.

Raphael Santiago hated this job. Every single night was the same story as the same loser freaks herded into the line, in hopes of being able to enter. They never got the message that they were not what the club was looking for. The too overdone hairstyles and extreme makeup were all poor attempts to seem intimidating, tough, and cool. Tonight he had only allowed around 150 people into the small basement hideout that employed him. In comparison, he had turned away 800 individuals, _and the night is still young_ he thought.

On a usual night, no one would catch his eye. Tonight he had the feeling that this would be different. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw the abnormally small girl approach. Her blood red hair was slicked back into a high ponytail while her lips sported a similar color. Her wide green eyes were lined like a cats and held a malicious glint that only mean trouble. Her body was clothed in a square necked black silk dress that ended around mid-thigh and a leather jacket. The rest of her legs were covered in black knee-highs and leather high-heeled boots.

Despite size and the fact that her bones stuck out a little too much, Raphael found himself feeling a glint of fear. The way she carried herself, slinking around the other partygoers with the look of a huntress out for prey made him want move away. Raphael grinned as she approached and smoothly stepped aside.

_"That was easy"_ Clary grinned to herself. She felt a shiver of satisfaction as she descended the stone staircase that would lead to her night. "_My night"_ a voice inside her whispered. The stairs were dimly lit by candelabras decorated with black crystals. Catching her reflection she flashed a pointed smile at the timid girl within.

"You don't know how to have any fun, I'm only trying t help out." She said out loud. No one was around to hear. As she approached the bottom of the stairwell, the thud of music became more apparent. The girl reached out and took the black doorknob in hand and opened it into oblivion.

The scene before the girls was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Bodies molded into each other as the music beat at heart stopping tempos. Strobe lights matched the beat, revealing only flashes of the mob within. All around them, Clary saw a beautiful symphony of flesh convulsing like a heartbeat. Velvet booths lined the walls with privacy curtains, some drawn and others open. The bar that lay in the far corner was serving some sort of silvery cloud that looked both delicious and poisonous. In the dead center of the room, there hung an elaborate chandelier sporting what looked like painted animal bones and skulls for which the club was named. The images before her were engraved in her bones as illicit substances were passed around.

Both Clarys loved it. Both Clarys reveled in it. Both Clarys craved it.


	5. Euphoria

Euphoria:

Colors blurred and noise slurred as Clary spun through the crow, head back and arms swinging. She breathed in the scent of sweat and blood, smiling and closing her eyes, she reveled in this feeling. Euphoria spread through her as she downed a pill with a hard and bitter drink. As she passed by, hands slid over her body, asking for permission. She brushed them off as she wove through the crowd, pausing every now and then to whisper a promise in eager ears or to brush across a wanting wrist. Catching her reflection in a passing drink glass, Clary smirked and winked at the other girl. A man, maybe a few years older than Clary with black hair and eyes mistook the wink for him, and silently wove toward her.

"Hello Kitten." Was all he said with lips pressed to her ear. Clary spun around, mouth gaping open and a look of shock clouding her striking features. When she saw his smooth angled cheekbones and full mouth she relaxed and melted into his waiting arms.

"Are you going to take me home tonight?"

"I certainly intend to." Just then, he spun her out onto the dance floor at the beginning of a new song and resting his body to hers. She gave an involuntary shiver as he roamed the planes of her stomach, circling her hip bones.

The next few hours were all a blur to Clary. She remembered sliding her body against his as the lights began to pulse in time with the music once more. Her vision was cut short with each flash, only glimpsing the boy she was with. Bodies glided together like glass and liquid. The boy introduced her to some friends, of which she couldn't remember any names. More drinks than Clary counted were passed around and new substances were snorted, swallowed and injected; each one bringing a new high, like bells, sounding through her body. Music convulsed and lips welded together. Her skin melted into his and her eyes glazed over. Every now and again new faces loomed above her as laughter sounded through chests and new flesh met her fingertips. She danced with so many people that she lost track, though the dark haired boy was always watching, claiming her as his. She was who had chosen for that night. He would not back down. He would not let her go. It could have been an hour or it could have been three, neither Clary nor _Clary_ cared. So long as she was here and her mind was not her own. She didn't care where this night led. This was what she wanted. All self-control was lost as dark tattoos and smoldering ashes drifted through the light. She felt like a dream or a surreal Dali painting. Colors blended together forming new and terrifying shapes, guiding her attention. What she was visualizing was not real, but that didn't change her attention. _It seems that nothing is real these days_ was all she thought as she glimpsed another reflection of herself in her partners eyes.

Her memories blurred and faded as new scenery floated before her. Pupils dilating and constricting, only to grow until the whites were gone. Sounds reverberated through an empty ribcage, a story carved through bone and marrow. The click of a lighter, the puff of smoke, the slick squeak of tongues and suction of powder ghosted through the dimly lit booths of the club. Clary's hearing began to fade in and out, picking up on irregular frequencies as though she was not a part of this world. Voices called to her and the once friendly faces of her friends melted and warped into maddening macabre masks. Whispers bit at her skin, tearing fresh wounds in her thighs. With each flash of light came a new face, closer than the last until she could feel teeth against her cheek, her neck, her chest, her arms. She spun around in every direction; panic clawing it's way through her belly, enveloping her mind. Everything was beautiful and wrong at the same time. She felt her breathing become erratic as a small noise like that of a cornered animal escaped her locked jaw. She brought her own nails to the back of her neck where she savagely clawed to release the beat within. She snapped back to reality.

Just then, Clary turned and met a familiar pair of eyes. Magnus Bane, an old friend, stood disapprovingly in front of Clary.

"Hello Little One," his voice dripped with concern as he reached out for her hand; as though trying to lead her from such a dark place, "such a sweet, innocent little thing. The world feasted on you didn't it." Was all he managed to say as she was once more pulled into the arms of Calix. Sometime during the night, she had learned his name but couldn't remember where. Her eyes briefly roamed for her old friend before the thrumming heartbeat of bodes converged, swallowing him whole into the darkness. Suddenly, as though being woken from a deep sleep, Clary no longer wanted to be here. Turning to the dark haired boy she whispered in his ear, "Lets get out of here…" Allowing her breath to tickle his neck and his eyes a full view down her shirt. He grinned in response, pulling her through the sea of sweat and murmuring "Kitten…" in her ear.

Finally, after dodging the near suffocation of bodies for an endless amount of time, the pair of lovers broke through. Clary imagined lunging from the water after too long of air deprivation beneath the waves. She turned and smirked at Calix whispering a hushed "your place...where is it?" He silently lead her along, his hand gripping her closer to him, rubbing slow circles on the exposed portion of her back. Clary absently remembered leaving her jacket behind but did not possess the energy it would take to retrieve it. Instead, she simply pressed closer to her new _friend_ and reveled in the heat he bestowed upon her slight frame. They laughed as they walked, keeping their faces pressed close, sharing many heated kisses along the way so as to prevent any loss of interest. He was handsome in a dark and fearsome way, his eyes were those of wolves and seemed to watch her every move. She didn't mind this though; she didn't really matter to him…not after tonight anyway. They approached a remodeled building from the 1800's gothic era. She had always loved this style of building. Gargoyles overlooked the tall, arch like windows; their tongues darting out like that of snakes. She felt uneasy but at the same time intrigued by the foreboding building. Above the rot iron gate read the word _Institute, _somehow making Clary feel at home. This was the kind of place that Jace would have loved to live in.

Chasing the thoughts of him from her head she turned to her companion, slipping the key from his hand and unlocking the front door. As she stepped onto the red carpeted floors of the foyer, Calix pressed his body to hers, forcing her chest against the wall. He breathed in her sent before dragging her into the elevator where she was quickly pressed against the wall. He absently flicked the 13th button and leaned his face into her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin and trailing wet kisses down her bony chest. His hands placed on either side of her head, enveloping her in a birdcage of sorts. Clary flung her hair back and laughed, exposing her neck further to his hungry lips. She drew him to her chest and savagely tore at his mouth, forcing his tongue further into her mouth. He groaned from the back of his throat and smiled against her cheek as the elevator banged to a start, the doors sliding open.

Clary wasted no time, reading the number on the key; she hurried down the dark hallway with him in tow. She reached the door and thrust the key into the lock, not missing the obvious Freudian connection to her current actions. As soon as the door was open, she felt his hands creep up her back, his tongue sliding up her reptilian spine. Clary spun around, making short work of his belt, kissing him with all of the ferocity of a starved lion. She pulled back, grasping his lower lip between her teeth and tugging gently. As he let out a low moan she bit down more until a small trickle of blood made its way down his chin. Pushing him down on the bed, she placed her legs on either side of his hips, sitting on his lap. Gently, she scooped her neck down in a darting motion and kissed away the blood, allowing him to unzip her dress. The following moments blurred somewhat as all garments were thrown haphazardly across the room.

Soon after, Clary disconnected with her body, allowing all feeling to wash over her with a sort of numbness. She watched as two individuals attacked each other with the self-control of sharks in a feeding frenzy. She took no pleasure from this, watching as the man left finger shaped bruises on the smaller girl's arms and thighs. The bed began to shake as powerful moans escaped from their mouths. He was saying things to her. Whispering _Kitten_ over and over, egging her on. She responded with her own force of strength, biting and clawing at his back, leaving long scratches. _How could someone willingly partake in this?_ she thought distantly. The two people took no notice as she called to them. They were lost in passion with the strength of a pack mentality. They took no notice of the girl shrieking at them with self-hatred. They didn't stop for what seemed like hours, until both were panting with exhaustion.

Clary was completely spent. She could hardly remember what had happened with the boy from the club. All throughout it she had heard screams inside her head, distracting her from the current state of her body. Rolling over, she examined Calix. He looked similar to her with marks from where her nails had left deep trails of red across his muscled chest, and crescent shaped bruises decorated his neck from her teeth. After they had finally finished he had whispered that they should do this again sometime. She knew she wouldn't. As she rolled onto her back, she caught site of her reflection. The ceiling was riddled with small reflective details, entwined by an intricate molding like vines. There was a small crack through one of the mirrors directly above Clary's face. One side of her face curled into a grin and gave a mocking blown kiss.

Clary felt sick suddenly, she didn't want to be here. She bolted up and all but threw her dress and boots on. Though she felt hot water run down her face, she made no sound. She wanted once more to return to the confines of her bed. She silently stood up and made her way to the door, not looking back at the sleeping man. As she approached the hallway, she heard the footsteps of one of Calix's neighbors returning from a night out. Turning the corner she was faced with a tall and tan figure. Slowly she allowed her eyes to trail up the familiar body until they reached a pair of smoldering gold eyes.

**Hey Guys! I know that I'm evil… The next chapters may take longer tow write because I want to focus on length and detail. This is as much for fun as it is for my own improvement sooo… feel free to leave criticism of all sorts (no hard feelings.) The next chapters will pick up with more Jace and their relationship will develop, do not fear my dears. See you soon!**


	6. Old Friends

Old Friends

Jace walked back from Isabelle's home at an all but glacial pace. He wanted to prolong the time spent in the biting morning air. It was around 5 am by now. What had started out as a friendly get together had soon been transformed into a tiny apartment packed full of "Isabelle's people" and cigarette smoke. He had tried his best to keep their conversations going while steering clear of what was on his mind. This became nightmarishly difficult as he became increasingly more intoxicated by the heavy fumes and illicit activities that swallowed him whole. Because Jace had refused to think about Clary for so long, every few seconds his mind was bombarded with images from the two years he had with her. At one point during the party, a girl with considerably less vibrant red hair had tried to sleep with him. He pushed her away with a mumbled excuse that somehow managed to find its way to the jaws of cruelty, and escaped to the balcony to clear his thoughts. Not long after, his adoptive sister snaked between the glass door and the frame, asking what he was thinking about.

"Nothing –Isabelle, I'm just tired" he sighed, watching his breath freeze into a cloud. The temperature had fallen remarkably from the time he walked over several hours previously.

"You know as well as I that this is considerably more than just that."

"I'm not feeling well, I thought we were actually going to spend time together, not this nonsense…like old times."

Isabelle seemed sad at this thought, "I-I'm sorry Jace, I thought you liked these kind of parties now. Things are different then they used to be…wait! I thought you were 'just tired'?" Her voice was mocking as she mimicked his previous tone of voice.

"She waited for him to answer. When it became apparent that she would receive none, she asked "Are you going to tell me what's actually wrong? Can I just assume it has something to do with a certain red head?" Isabelle grimaced sadly at the look of confirmation that must have found its way onto her brother's face.

"That obvious eh?" was all Jace said. Isabelle had always been able to read him like an open book.

"You've seen her recently haven't you?" Her eyes widened slightly at the prospect. It had been years since she had seen her best friend…ex-best friend by now.

Jace had been a fool to think that he could keep this from her. "Yes Izzy," he admitted weakly, "I've seen her twice in two days."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Does something need to be done?" The look she gave him made him pause.

"What am I-nothing. I walked in on her with another guy doing God knows what and then again later in an alleyway."

"Good for her."

"I thought you would be on my side Isabelle."

"As much as I love you Jace, you really fucked up with her. She clearly loved you and needed you to be there for her…you walked out." She paused, "You can try to fix this if you want, but you better be there for her this time. Do not ever hurt her like that again." She turned her back on Jace and moved to go back into the party. Before she closed the door, she turned back once more, "You really love her don't you?" It wasn't a question. "Fix this." With that she was thrust back into the sea of music, disappearing as she became enshrouded in the darkness of her shrine-like home.

This was how Jace came to be standing in the elevator of the beautifully redone masterpiece of architecture from the mid 1800's. This was the kind of structure that had always held a certain power in his heart. The eyes belonging to the beast's perched on each corner lent a peaceful sense of security to the inhabitants, as though they were never truly alone. He felt a new air of hope rise from his shoulders. Jace was going to find Clary and make this entire mess of a situation better. He owed it to her; the girl that had quite possibly been dealt the worst hand in all of New York City.

As Jace stepped out of the elevator on the 13th floor, he heard shuffling from his next-door neighbors apartment. _I wonder who it is this time?_ Jace thought. He was no stranger to the sounds of violent sex and ashamed exits from Calix's apartment. He liked the guy. They were both into casual one-night stands and both loved loud music, whether it be Beethoven or Bassnectar. They had never really been friends, but on occasion Jace would be invited to one of his parties, which were usually enjoyable because they hung around similar crowds with similar fixations on a lack of reality and normalcy.

He timidly approached his door, reaching into his pocket, her heard the familiar jingle of keys as it broke the silence that emanated from the hall. As he prepared to enter his home, the door behind him was eased open and something very small turned the alcove corner, bumping in to Jace. He glanced down to steady Calix's latest object of desire and froze at the familiar sight. He recognized her instantly while it took her eyes several moments to focus and roam up his form, though he was aware that she knew it was him. Her green eyes were rimmed with coal that was lightly smudged. There were a few recent tear tracks down her cheeks, dragging the dark color with them; leaving her face lightly dirtied. Aside from the mascara trails, her skin was flawless as usual. Her lips were lightly swollen from kisses and stained from a previous lip color that no loner resided there. Clary's hair hung loosely in natural waves around her shoulders, unruly and cascading down to her waist.

For a moment they simply stared at one another, unsure of what to do in the present circumstance. Although he has seen her recently, this was the first time he really saw what she was. She was thinner than before; her collarbones jutted out from beneath the low cut dress, forming canyons along her chest. Her legs looked slightly unnatural and unable to support her weight as they fed into her boots. Her hair, though still smooth and full, had lost much of its original health. It was not just her physical appearance that was different. In fact, what he thought was most unusual about her, was the look in her eyes. They darted back and forth nervously, as though looking for someone that was not quite there. She had always been strong and fiery yes, but now she held the look of a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of a semi truck. She looked like she was ready to do anything to ensure her own survival, but at the same time was willing to bring about her own self-destruction.

Clary, now turned slightly to the side, eyed him with suspicion. The smoky color around her eyes somehow managed to simultaneously cover and extenuate the bruise like bags encircling her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, allowing her breath to gently stir the hair that hung limply in front of her face.

"What are you doing here Jace?" Her voice cold and accusing, startling him out of his stupor. He had been very tired moments before but now seemed to be running on an adrenaline burst.

"I live here." He stated bluntly.

"Oh…it seems nice. I thought that you would appreciate the architecture." Neither person knew what to make of the situation.

"Yeah, I suppose it's nice here." An awkward silence descended over the corridor as neither Clary nor Jace knew what to say next.

Jace broke the silence first. "The gargoyles were a nice touch… You know, they were originally used to div-"

"Divert water from the roof of churches? Yes, I know. You used to talk about them endlessly…they were always your favorite architectural details."

"You remember that?" He was surprised, he had assumed that she would simply block out any memories she had of the boyfriend that made her love him and then turn away. He was wrong. Guilt swept through him at the realization that even after all of these years, she would still remember such a minute detail about him. Jace had always loved old architecture; the kind that one could find in ancient European cathedrals. Ones with soaring arches, stained glass, stone passageways leading to heights unknown and flying buttresses.

"Clary…I-I'm sorry." The words came out jumbled, like he didn't mean them.

She simply stared at him, her eyes unflinching as they held his gaze. When Jace could take no more of this unending contest for dominance, he broke the silence.

"Say something…anything-please?" His voice broke on the last syllable. His voice was desperate, relentlessly craving the affection that only she could satisfy.

"You're sorry?" Her face darkened. "Two years of pain and hatred and you're sorry? Are you serious? Are you being funny and sarcastic-of course you are! You're being Jace, stupid and obnoxious and cruel, joking old Jace! It's really great to have ya' back sweety!" Her words came out jumbled and varying in tone, as if she couldn't put her thoughts in order and had no idea where they were coming from or heading to. Her eyes had returned to their original stature, darting back and forth from corner to corner like a snakes tongue.

Her face changed suddenly. Now it was one of desperation and solitude, as though she had witnessed an epiphany. Glancing at the ceiling before meeting his eyes, she finished, "God…you're always such a mess."

At this notion, anger coursed through his body, preparing him for a fight.

"Oh, I'm a mess? Did you enjoy your little midnight escapade? You aren't the first that he has taken on the floor, don't feel special honey… though I must know; did he make you feel loved?" He hadn't meant to say it. Jace instantly regretted the words once they left his mouth as she flinched and glanced down in shame or confirmation, he wasn't sure which, before looking back down the hall where he had come from.

"Wow Jace, that's really cute. Always such a charmer." A very small and tight smile ghosted her features and her small voice trembled slightly, pressing her back into the wall as though to rearrange the molecules if only to find an escape route.

"Haven't spoken to you in years and that's all you can say? Are you actually kidding or do you really look up to my father that much?" Clary paused as she mentioned her father. She knew that Jace hated her father, probably more than she did.

"Oh, so I'm your like your father now, is that it?" His voice steadily rose, he was nearly shouting, though he knew he shouldn't. Jace's goal had been to fix this whole issue. Years of suppressed anger were erupting from the surface of the seemingly dormant volcanoes that was his mind. His voice darkened as he spat, "A few harsh words and suddenly I'm like your father? Quite a leap there Clare; don't you think?"

"As if the only thing you've ever done is throw words at me! You abandoned me Jace, you and the Lightwoods literally fucked me and then left me in the hospital with all of those _freaks_ to rot. So you know what? Yes Jace, you are my father…fortunately it wasn't a total loss. You want to know what I discovered?" She roughly combed her fingernails through her hair, tugging savagely at the matted knots. "I would rather be in a cage with them for months then to be anywhere near you!"

At this, Jace lost what little was left of his composure. "WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? HUH CLARY? We were doing just fine and then you had to go and ruin it with your little pill stunt! You were always selfish like that. I helped you, okay. I made you happy, you said so yourself." His voice broke against his permission, allowing his voice to come out into a whisper.

"So you're saying that after years and years of abuse, neglect, depression, starvation and mania, I was supposed to just be fine because I found a boyfriend? This seems like a joke…even more so because you knew all along what my father did to me and yet you still thought that leaving at the first signs of trouble would be a good idea. Explain to me what you were thinking, BECAUSE CLEARLY I'M JUST A CRAZY, HEARTBROKEN CLARY THAT CANT TAKE DAILY SEXUAL ASSULTS FROM HER FATHER, LIKE A GOOD LITTLE SLUT!"

She paled at her own words. Jace couldn't think of a single thing to say, watching as more tears poured down her cheeks and her bird-like body was quaked with sobs. He wanted nothing more to sew her limbs together, prevent them from falling apart. He wanted to climb inside her skin to lend strength where it was needed. Jace wanted to hold her face in his hands and crush it so tightly to his face that their minds would combine into one, creating an intangible bond.

Jace did none of these things. Instead he watched as she darted from the hall, down the stairs and out of his sight. He imagined her running aimlessly through the rain as hands stretched toward her from dark corners, harming her in this moment of weakness. _The weakness I caused._

This though seemed to wake him from his trance. Spinning on his heel, he darted down the corridor into the blinking stairwell. He hoped, more than anything, that he would catch her before more cruelty could be gifted to the tiny, cowering girl that he called home.

**Hey, sorry for the late update. I have to say that I am not entirely happy about this chapter. I find it really to write from Jace's POV and still capture the same emotion. From now on I will stick to writing mostly Clary with just a few other POV's.**


	7. Chase

Clary burst through the doors of the Institute, her breathing irregular. She was surprised that she had made it so far without completely collapsing. After Jace had left her the first time, she had never been very good at controlling her emotions, much less these seemingly erratic mood swings and visions. She had wanted to see him again, but never like this. Clary had to admit she hadn't been expecting such an outburst from either of them. _Not like he deserves much better…not after what he did._ Clary was snapped back into the cold bite of reality when her face was struck with freezing droplets of ice. Paying no attention to this setback, Clary ran from the building with no destination in mind.

She wanted to escape everything; numb the pain that ravaged her insides like a disease. She wanted nothing more than to reach her home and curl up in the scalding water of her bath with razor in hand. She wanted to watch as the water turned pink with swirling clouds of red, allowing the darkness to escape her body. Clary's fantasy was cut short when her frail bones were wracked with sobs. All of the strength left her, forcing Clary to lean against a wall for support. She pressed her forehead to the cool stone surface of the brick alleyway, hoping she could rest here uninterrupted. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, nearly freezing in the cold. It was here that she realized she was shaking, not only from anger and hurt, but also from cold. The rainwater had soaked her hair into submission; leaving what few clothes she wore to cling to her body like second skin. She was kneeling on the ground with her hands pressed to the gravel and broken glass to steady her the vibrations traveling though her body. Just then, a cold and all too familiar voice spoke from the dark end of the alley.

"Pretty little Clary…" the voice cooed "lost again are we?"

Clary turned her head slightly to take in the approaching mirror image of herself.

"I thought I gave you what you wanted. Guess you'll have to help yourself this time." A malicious grin spread across her features as Clary reached up and covered her ears.

"Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head." Her voice was shaking and unstable as she repeated the words over and over. With each repetition her fingers dug into her scalp a little more, until she was yanking so hard that she thought she might actually rip it out. She felt a cool grip on her hand as it was moved across the ground to a broken bottle. When Clary looked up, she was alone once more, though she still heard her words thrumming through her scalp.

Suddenly, the entire world was blocked out. She could no longer hear the distant sound of cars honks and screeches. She couldn't hear the splash of rainwater on the ground, nor the friction of her fingertips as the scarped along the ground. She couldn't feel the cold that had melted through to her core or the trickle of blood that ran down her palms as the glass pricked it with pressure. Her vision went blurry except for the focus around the broken bottle in her hand. Once it was secure there, she turned around, leaning so her shoulder was pressed into the wall and her back was to the street. Clary only examined the jagged object for a moment before ramming it into her thigh, growling with such primitive ferocity that she whimpered.

She pulled back, leaving the glass in her leg as blood poured across the milky surface of her skin. The red traveled along her skin like velvet, going around the raised marks of old scars.

She felt unreal. She no longer existed. She didn't want to.

Her fingers once more grasped the glass and yanked to the side, carving a deep ridge in her already marred flesh. As she did so, memories of her father's hands performing similar acts in a drunken rage raced through her mind. She remembered his hands tearing at her neck after she had spilled his brandy across the shag carpet on her birthday. She remembered his hands digging into her hips when she tried to run away from him when she had made the wrong dish for guests. The images the came most frequently were those of the night she had come home from a club. He was supposed to be out for the night, but had decided to come home early. Clary had stumbled in with a short dress on and the stench of too much tequila on her breath. Clary shivered as she remembered the way he had thrown her on the ground and everything had faded to darkness. The next morning, Clary had awoken to a familiar stinging between her legs and her clothing in tatters, thankful that this wasn't her first time.

With each whispered insult and violation of her mind, Clary brought a new slash to her leg. The world was still faded, though she though this was mostly due to blood loss-

"Clary!"

All of her senses came crashing back down on her like a tidal wave. Everything was too loud, too light, too dark, too close, too far, and too rough. No longer was she crumpled on the ground, moaning in pain and euphoria. She was jolted to a standing position ignoring the complaints screaming through her joints and unsteadiness of her vision. Clary had heard _that_ voice. She had to find the source of the silken voice that had struck her only minutes before. Her senses were absorbing each strike of every rain drop, forcing her to glance around haphazardly. Everything was blurring as she tried to find that one thing that had always anchored her down. With a sick feeling, she realized that she couldn't quite remember what that was.

"Clary!" There it was again… only much closer! A figure approached her; a lithe figure with gold hair and eyes that gleamed like a lions. Her eyes snapped back to meet his, resting her weight on the wall.

"Clary…I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I-" His words were interrupted with a loud gasp "Clary what happened to your le-"

As much as she wanted to continue listening to his voice, Clary couldn't control the darkness that swallowed her whole.

Jace's entire world froze. He had finally found her after running blindly through the streets screaming her name at the top of his lungs. When he'd finally found her, she was wildly glancing around, as though she couldn't see the world for what it was. He had been so caught up in her face that it had taken him a moment to notice _all_ of her. He felt his triumphant smile slip and time all but stop as he watched the blood pour down her leg. A large broken bottle dripping red was clenched tightly in her little hands, the knuckles turning white. She met his eyes only for a moment, earth on metal, before they rolled back into her head and she began falling for the ground. Without thinking about it, Jace dove for her head, preventing it from smacking into the hard ground. He couldn't do much for the rest of her frail body as it connected with the gravel with a sickening thud. Gathering her into his arms, Jace smacked her cheek gently, calling her name, in hopes of waking her. _She needs a doctor, _he thought. _No, she mistrusts them too much. Imagine what she would do if she woke up in a hospital one more time. _

With this in mind, Jace gently lifted her body into his arms, frowning at how slight she was. He could feel every bone press back through the thin material of black dress as it rode up her thigh, revealing the deep wounds. Jace winced on behalf of the small girl that lay in his arms. Taking out his phone, Jace quickly texted Magnus to meet him at his apartment with first aide. Without waiting for a reply, the boy took off into the night.

Everything felt blurry and soft. She was walking down the street with the sun beating down on her shoulders. A light wind combed through her hair, brushing it out of her face like fingertips. A small voice whispered in her ear, though she couldn't be sure. Now that she thought of it she wasn't sure of anything. These thoughts were chased away as she closed her eyes and allowed a small hum to escape her lips. Her fingers trailed along a bush, catching on the flower petals as she did so. She wasn't sure what was moving her, but suddenly she found herself in a dark hallway. This place had been the scene of so many of her nightmares and she shuddered.

_Stay with me Clary. Clary wake up…_

The soft voice was lost, making the girl, Clary, frown. It was a nice voice.

"Yes Clary, wake up and run away to your little friends." She spun around to face the culprit but was seized by a strong pair of hands from behind. She felt a hand trail up the inside of her thigh and shivered. She caught the reflection of her father as he held her face forward. The hand on her leg suddenly grasped a wicked carving knife.

"Wake up Clary." He grinned diabolically and slammed the blade into her leg, bringing her to the surface of consciousness.

Clary awoke with a gasp, feeling a stinging pressure on her leg. She flailed and screamed, reaching for anything that might ward of her attacker.

"Jace, hold her down! I need to finish."

A pair of strong hands clasped her shoulders and a face was brought into view. Though Clary knew the face, she continued to thrash and squirm.

"Clary! Clary calm down. We need to stop the bleeding." The look on his face was desperate.

"Jace, I don't care what you do, just make sure she stops moving her legs!"

The boy Clary had missed so dearly had a strange look come over his face. He did the one thing that she had wanted so much for the past years, making her body stop moving and turn to putty.

He kissed her.


	8. Reality Bites

Reality Bites-

When his lips met hers, Clary's body stopped straining against the firm hands that gripped her body. She stopped breathing for a time and simply watched the world. Her mind was clear for the first time in what seemed like years. She could see straight and felt like she had when her mother would hold her at night, rocking gently back and forth. Clary realized with a sick fascination that she was finally seeing reality.

There were no eyes in the dark corners, no hands grasping her from unknown hiding places, no whispers on the wind. The world seemed lighter. At the moment it didn't feel like a tidal wave of aggression and hatred was directed at her. No one was coming after her and she felt like her heart would no longer come to a sudden, shuddering stop. The clockwork gears of her body were running in their best condition, ensuring that she would see another day. Despite her current shock and warmth, the shadowy part of her mind remained. She could feel it, plotting and weaving its black smoke-like tendrils through her brain stems. The clouded grasp still controlled her spinal column and had access to her fingers. It was merely at bay now, it would never leave her entirely alone; not until she was just an empty timepiece walking, of this she was certain. Clary hadn't realized it at the time, but the majority of the world she thought she lived in was only a figment of her imagination.

It took the girl a moment to realize that Jace had pulled back. He was regarding her with a frantically desperate look on his face. If the circumstances had been any different, he would have made a sly comment about his effect on women. At this thought, Clary was made aware that she wasn't entirely sure what said circumstances were. A few blurry memories graced her mind; it wasn't much. She remembered Jace's harsh words with a weak shudder, after that everything was lost excluding images of rain and blood…and warmth. Good feelings like this often concerned Clary, as they were an anomaly to be mistrusted in her miserable existence. She couldn't even call it a life.

Noting the look on her face, Jace clasped his hands over her own and whispered that it was going to be okay.

"Okay from what?" Clary asked, her voice raspy and barely a whisper.

"You don't remember?" He was confused. How could she forget something like last night?

"Based on the present circumstances, do you really think I would want to?"

Jace's smile was grim, but it was another voice that answered.

"Your stitches are done, don't tear them." Said Magnus.

"Stitches?" Clary was starting to panic. "Why do I need stitches?" She jerked out of Jace's embrace and tried to dart from the bed. She wanted to press herself into the corner, force the wall to fold in on her. She regretted it immediately, gasping as a searing pain burned through each of her thighs. Her legs failed her, but before she could hit the ground a pair of hands scooped her up and lay her back down. Clary's eyes were pressed together so tightly that Jace was afraid the lashes would meld together, forever hiding her eyes from him. The thin, bird-like bone beneath the skin on her hands was pressing outwards as she gripped the bed beneath her, turning the knuckles a deathly yellow. She felt like a hot iron brand was pressed to her from the inside, untraceably marking her forever. Small pearly teeth latched onto her bottom lip, making it swell and drawing blood that coated it in a particularly macabre shade of lipstick.

"Clary no. No don't do that. Shhh Shhh Clary. Your going to be okay, just relax okay? Relax." Jace desperately tried to console her, brushing his fingers along her arms and grimacing at the fresh hand print bruises and parallel marks that littered the velveteen skin.

Once the throbbing had subsided, Clary hesitantly opened her eyes to two concerned faces. She glanced down at her legs to see the source of her pain. What she saw nearly made her sick as a startled shriek tore through her lips. Though the haphazard cuts were serious no doubt, the crisscrossing stitches made her feel like a used puppet. She needed to be sewn together repeatedly or else she would fall into oblivion entirely. The blood had been washed away but the skin remained an angry red, as if stained by her self-inflicted wounds. Now remnants of the night before returned to her. She remembered the knife-like rain as it sliced her skin to pieces, allowing her to escape to the alley. She remembered the feeling of stone and gravel, seeing her own face and the cold hand as it pressed a broken bottle to her palm. Clary did not remember striking herself with it, though apparently she had.

"There was quite a bit of blood, though it was mixed with water. Based on what I saw last night, it's more likely that you passed out from drug withdrawal, exhaustion, and malnourishment." Magnus said, his face a perfect mask of emotions.

"You were there…Last night at the club, you were actually there?"

"Yes…I tried to talk to you, but you disappeared." Magnus looked sad.

"I thought I was just seeing things… from the drugs." She clarified quickly at their alarmed faces. Clary did not mention that she simply _saw_ things on a daily basis. The two men before her would jump to conclusions and she would be taken away. _They wouldn't be wrong to_, she reminded herself. _But if I were ever locked away what little fragments that are left of me would vanish. I really would be a body inhabited by ghosts and marrow._

At that moment, Clary decided to break the silence. "If my condition was so bad, why didn't you bring me to a hospital?"

"I remembered that you hated hospitals. Ever since Valentine… hurt you and the doctors sent you right back home. I couldn't do that to you again… not unless it was life and death."

Clary stared at him incredulously for a moment, "You remember that?"

"You remembered my love of architecture." He pointed out, earning a very brief and hesitant smile. He could see the sadness behind it.

It was then that Magnus chose to speak. "Clary," His voice was stern but gentle. "I believe that you passed out for a number of reasons. Yes, blood loss had a lot to do with it, though it was mixed with water and therefore not a sever as originally thought. Anyone can see that you are exhausted. Hat coupled with drug withdrawal, malnourishment and the shock of running into Jace resulted in your current situation." Clary stared at him, Magnus was calm and calculated as ever when explaining medical diagnosis'. He had a degree in Medicine but chose to leave the profession behind, claiming it was not his cup of tea.

"Therefore," He continued, "I suggest that you not be left alone, as it has been proven that you aren't the best at keeping up your condition."

Though this made Clary angry, she found that she lacked the energy to show it.

"I've always taken care of myself Magnus." Her voice was dead as she stared blankly at the wall behind him.

"Yes, you are capable of keeping yourself moving for the most part, but after what I've seen, you are in no condition to be left alone." His tone was final. "Jace, buy some food and keep an eye on this one." He gestured to Clary before kissing her cheek and walking out the door. Magnus had always been straight to business, though he did give her a small smile before shutting Jace's door.

The silence that ensued could only be described as awkward. Neither of them knew what to do in this situation.

"Clary," Jace began "I want you to try to get some more sleep. I'll be at the store."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the bedroom. A few moments later she heard the click of the lock on the front door. Clary was officially alone.

In Jace's absence, the darkness slithered through her body like worms in a corpse. She felt the compulsion to find the cutthroat razor that she knew he owned. Shocks reverberated through her body as the silent hiss of the voices began to take over. Clary shuddered and brought her knees up to her chest, hands pressing into eyelids. Silent tears split the still smeared makeup that adorned her eyes.

Clary fell asleep in this position. Clary was scared in this position. Clary repeatedly woke up from night terrors in this position.

* * *

The walk to Melvin's Grocery took longer than Jace had remembered. He never really bought food for home, only ever going out to eat or not at all. The entire journey to Melvin's Grocery had to have been in a black hole. How else could he seem to get nowhere despite what seemed like hours of travel? Jace _had_ to get home so that he could make sure that Clary was okay. She was all he ever really cared about. Jace was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly passed the store, forcing him to double back the way that he had come.

Upon entering the linoleum-lined store, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, as it did when he knew he was on camera. The fluorescent lighting seemed to bounce off of every surface, making it hard to focus on anything. Every direction he looked was filtered with a glare that always seemed to point directly into his eyes. He had always been paranoid about things like that.

Deciding to buy Clary's favorites, he desperately tried to remember them all. It came quite easily along with a throng of other memories. Clary, in all her various mood swings had always had a certain taste for garlic and coconut, not together, but in general. Smiling, he picked up the two items. Next was mango and tomato soup. One day Clary had come over to his house and began rummaging through the Lightwood pantry to quench her craving. She hadn't even greeted him that day and left shortly thereafter with a can of cheap tomato soup and a sliced mango. Another time, Jace had made pasta with the intension of adding sauce. She had stopped him with a laugh and instead opted for half the container of cheese. Despite all her weird preferences, there was one thing they both had in common. Pancakes. Jace had never told her, but his secret recipe was actually a Betty Crocker mix. Isabelle was sworn to secrecy to never reveal the truth. All of these memories made him sad. He hadn't realized until now what a strange girl she had been.

As Jace headed over to the checkout, he picked up a pack of premade cookie dough. Clary hated cookies because she said the dough was always better. He couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

Startling him from his thoughts was the sound of loud laughter. Two girls stood in the corner and were staring at him with bright smiles meant to be inviting. Had it been any other day, he would have stopped off to talk to them. Today he found that he wasn't interested in anyone else. With that, he passed by their disappointed smiles and quickly paid for the products, ignoring the weird look the cashier gave him. He supposed that they were odd items, though he didn't intend on going back to buy anything else. Clary hated health food.

If Jace thought the walk to the store was long, he was in for a surprise. Not only did the street grow two feet with every step he took, but it also started pouring rain. This in turn seemed to transport him through a wormhole to another dimension. In an attempt to stay slightly dry, Jace walked as close to each building a he could, hoping that the slight overhangs would provide shelter. It soon became apparent that this was doing no good, forcing Jace to abandon the feeble attempts at dryness.

The constant pressure he felt in his chest seemed to grow as he approached his apartment. He felt that the sensation that was neither pleasant nor painful, was only going to be alleviated by seeing her again. When he finally stood outside the apartment building, he lost control. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, Jace took the steps two at a time. His legs felt as though they were scorched with fire and his lungs were coated in smoke. This did not deter him as he drew near his apartment door. Sooner than he could blink, the door was open and the groceries were on the counter. Jace spun around quickly and ran for the room that held Clary in it's warm embrace. He paused just before throwing it open and instead eased it wider to keep from waking her.

She wasn't there.

Clary wasn't there like she had promised.

Jace's mind was realing. He had to find her soon. He wouldn't let her continue throwing herself into situations her mind couldn't handle. She was in no condition to go wandering around New York City in this weather.

"No, no, no…" He repeated to himself over and over. He whirled around and was about to grab his coat to search for her when he noticed the bathroom. The light was on, spilling underneath the door, highlighting the cracks that ran along the wooden floor. _What has she done?_ He thought worriedly. _What if she found my razors or overdosed or…_ These thoughts poured through his head at a supersonic pace, driving all sense from his mind. This wasn't about cool headed thinking anymore. This was about making sure that Clary was okay.

Jace rushed over, slamming the door open so hard that the frame shook. A terrified yelp came from the bathtub. Clary sat in the middle of the bathtub, knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair was pulled up into a haphazard bun, a few unruly curls detaching from the others to fall down her back and chest. Wide green eyes met his, and for a moment everything else faded.

It was only when she looked away to hide the deep blush on her cheeks, did he realize how very naked she was. Awkwardly coughing, Jace turned to the side, resting his back on the door and focusing on the towel wrack.

"Oh. Umm…" he stammered, "I didn't realize that you were, umm… in here."

"It seemed like you knew it." She accused gently.

"I… I thought you might be in trouble."

"Trouble does seem to find me, though seeing as I was locked in your house…" She drawled.

"I'll leave you to it." He said, casting one last lingering glance at her. Her body was so much smaller than it had been. Jace turned to leave the bathroom when he heard a small sound, so quiet that he almost hadn't caught it.

"Sit with me Jace."

He paused. He smiled. He turned around.

Once more meeting her eyes, Jace tried his best not to look down. He stepped closer, removing his shoes as he did so. Eventually he kneeled on the cool tile and leaned his back against the tub. He loved how the water sounded as it slid along her skin, always confirming her presence.

He soon became aware of sweet breath tickling his neck and stirring the hair that resided there. She rested her delicate chin on his shoulder, allowing for the formation of a bridge for the water droplets to reach his shirt. Jace stopped breathing.

"Come here Jace."

Clary's small hands fisted in his shirt and tugged him upwards. His legs complied with the request as he shifted over the edge of the tub. He gazed down at her for only a moment before an impatient noise escaped her lips. He found his body descending over hers into the hot water. His clothing was now soaked with water, creating a sort of transparent second skin. Had it been only him or another girl in the tub Jace would have been bothered by the scorching heat of the water. Seeing as it was Clary, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Clary spun so her back was to the wall and her spine lined up with the curve of the tub. Jace was now lying on top of her, allowing her to bring their chests together. He could feel each of her rib bones protruding for her skin, and could see the deep holes where her collarbones were. The bright sound of Clary's laughter reverberated through the room as she wove her small hands into his hair. Jace's laughter matched hers, resounding like church bells across the small space.

For a moment, they simply lay there. Jace's body covering hers, foreheads pressed together. They breathed one another in as though the other was the antidote for a poison streaming through their blood. Clary gently nuzzled her face into his, brushing his lips with hers.

"I've missed you." She said, her eyes closing gently.

"Me too." Jace kissed her cheeks, trailing his mouth along the angled bone there. He allowed his lips to explore her face ad neck, leaving a line of goose bumps along her skin wherever he touched her. She began unbuttoning his shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor with a soggy squish. By now, they were both naked, though neither seemed interested in that fact. Jace was too focused on holding her in his arms, and she the same.

There had never been any sense in denying it. Clary was his. She provided him air to live and blood to flow.

They were one, two beating hearts, two souls converging into one being. They were all heated limbs, pressing harder together, attempting to warp DNA to be together further. He loved her in every meaning of the word and could not change that every facet of his body craved her. She was his drug, bringing him ecstasy with every touch, every word, every movement and thought. He couldn't think of any place he would rather be, than with her. His. No one else could have this.

Small gasps escaped her mouth, bringing smiles to his mouth. His hands traced her skin, following the lacework of her scars. Though they made him sad, it brought comfort to know that he could help her now. She would never need a blade again. He knew it would take time and effort, but eventually she would be whole again. Offering her what comfort he could, Jace kissed each scar, new and old, tracing them like brail. This was the story of Clary. All her perfection and imperfection was printed for the world to see. It was the saddest story he had ever read.

**Sorry for the wait, I know I'm bad. Sadly there are worse updaters then me sooooo… not that sorry. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectation, feel free to leave constructive criticism. I love comments as always but this story only has a few followers, so I'm not expecting much. Also check out my profile for my other works/works in progress and vote for future stories.**

**THIS STORY IS NOT OVER! Do not fear, there is still much to come. I simply felt like giving you guys a little happiness.**


	9. Red Lights

Red Lights-

The first thing Clary noticed when she woke up was the warmth. There was an arm, tanned and toned, draped over her side, pressing her against a hard chest. Light breaths stirred her hair, sending shivers down her back. Never had she stayed the night with one of her midnight partners. She wondered why this one was different.

Clary's eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the light that trickled through the curtains. She briefly admired the reflections of the dust particles flickering through the air like feathers. She raised her hands, trailing them across the sunlight path as one would the surface of a smooth lake. She admired the glow it gave her skin, catching on the fine hair and freckles that lined them. It was then that she realized what she was doing. She was trying to avoid seeing the person behind her. She now remembered who it was that lay there, protectively embracing her back. She knew that she had allowed _him_ back into her life. Whether she liked it or not, Jace had weaseled his way through the cracks in her walls. All Clary could do was pray he did not burn her once more.

A long arm trailed up the length of hers, adding a strange contrast of skin tone to the picture. Thin pianist fingers wove through her knobby ones, pulling them down to a pair of pouty lips.

"Good morning Clary." She could hear the smile in his voice. Clary did not respond, instead devoting all of her attention to the number of wall decorations he had. She soon discovered it was none. She blushed.

"Shall we get up?" He asked nonchalantly.

Clary felt panic in her bones. "You want me to leave, don't you?" Clary sat up and began reaching for her things, attempting to conceal her embarrassment. Long arms snaked around her waist, pulling her back down to the bed with a thump. She bounced lightly on the mattress until a heavy weight was lifted over her. Concern clouded Jace's otherwise perfect features.

"I never want you to leave. Ever again. You know that right?" He brushed the hand not supporting himself over her cheek.

"You…want me to stay? Here?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Most people never want to see me again. The feeling is usually mutual."

"I'm not most people. And besides, you are in no condition to go wondering off again." He moved his hands to affectionately pat the stitching on her leg.

"So I'm not allowed to leave, but I am allowed to simply fall into bed with you?"

"You," He kissed her nose. "Are allowed to fall into bed as much as you like." He buried his face in her neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses up to her ear. "In fact," He whispered. "It is quite invited."

She giggled and turned away, allowing him more access to her skin. He obliged, skimming his nose along her throat, breathing in her vanilla scent and listening to her swallow. Clary allowed his hands to roam her sides, tracing the subtle curves made prominent with her malnutrition. She turned her head to meet his eyes, making him freeze. She grinned, watching realization set in as to what she was about to do. Quicker than he could stop her, Clary pressed upward, spinning the pair of them as she did so. Clary laughed and sat up, Jace splayed beneath her, arms stretched out to the sides like a fallen angel. The bed sheets now draped over her legs, exposing the rest of her body. Jace appreciated this very much, she could tell.

"Someone's happy to see me." She amusedly commented, noting the pressure building in the space between her legs.

"I'm always happy to see you."

"For your sake, I hope not. That problem won't be so easy to fix in public will it?" She grasped his hands, delicately playing with them in front of her. She loved monitoring the scars that he had earned from his days of using fights to blow off steam. It had always amazed her that fingers capable of such beauty and eloquence in front of a piano could also snap bone and leave such colossal damage.

"Better fix that problem now then." Jace glanced down with a smirk.

He tenderly placed his hands on her hips, moving his thumbs in smooth circles along the bones that protruded there. Clary shifted her weight up, slowly lowering herself onto him, sucking in a breath with closed eyes. She teasingly rotated her hips forward, chuckling as Jace's grip suddenly tightened. She leaned forward and pressed her hands to his chest, whispering that she had missed _this_. The way only he could make her feel. Beautiful.

Clary squealed as their positions switched, Jace now lying on top with a triumphant expression.

"You take too long."

He pressed himself further into Clary, forcing her eyes to close and a silly smile to linger across her lips. Clary pulled his chest down to meet hers, allowing his mouth to meet hers in a flurry of clashing pinks. Jace began to beat steadily now, mouth never leaving hers. She left one hand entwined with his above her head, bringing the other up to thread through his hair. She had always loved how soft it was. His spare hand wandered from her hip, up her ribs, pausing at the milky skin beneath her breast, finally resting on the small of her back. Clary felt him press her up, forcing her back to arch into him, allowing him to move farther in. The pressure in her core had steadily been building and was near unbearable. She wanted to unzip his skin and climb inside, hiding from the world together. She moved both hands to his back, digging her nails in as she had with Calix, this time in worth and not life. She had used the stranger as a floating device; something to keep her alive, barely. Jace was different. He always had been. He had always been what made her want to continue. He gave her a reason, and for that she was forever grateful.

For the third time that day, they altered positions. Clary was back on top, obliging Jace this time. This was as much for her as it was for him. Clary moved faster than before. She could feel the friction as he slid in and out of her. At this point, she could no longer hold back her moans, gasping in pleasure. She found it odd that she was actually enjoying this. Whenever she went home with someone else, it was always to be numb and to forget. This time, she would remember everything; but only if she stopped getting lost in her thoughts like this.

Clary was panting, matching the moans emanating from Jace's mouth. She knew she couldn't bare this much longer. She opened her eyes, marveling at how Jace was staring back at her through half lidded eyes. His enormous hands gripped her thighs, careful to avoid any scaring, nearly swallowing them.

She tossed her head back, exposing her throat to the sky, allowing the steady rhythm to take over.

Clary could not say how long they had lain there. Limbs were tangled together in an intricate spider web of skin, muscle, marrow, and bone. Her head was precariously balanced on Jace's side, threatening to fall with each constriction of his lungs. Though she longed to get on with the day, she could not bring herself to move from the warmth in which she currently basked. His hands absentmindedly rubbed into her scalp, winding through her curls with blatant adoration.

She felt whole. The darkness was gone from the corner of her eye. This made her uncomfortable. She couldn't watch it as she had before. She knew that it was waiting for her. She knew that the biting voices inside her head were only stalking her now, waiting for the opportune moment to rip her to shreds. Clary was happy, and it terrified her.

"Come now Clary," Jace's voice soothed these thoughts from her head. "Let us get something inside you that isn't attached to me."

He smirked. She smacked him.

"What an attentive boyfriend you are." She rolled her eyes, though simultaneously his softened. A slow smile spread across his features, one full of warmth.

"What?" She questioned.

"I like the sound of that. _Boyfriend_…" He breathed dazedly, sliding a hand down her wrist, tracing the gorges of torn flesh there. He frowned, dragging her arm to his face for further inspection. His eyes skimmed the angered lines with a grimness Clary only found at the likes of funerals. Tentatively he brought it to his lips, placing warm kisses down the rootless veins that kept blood flowing through her. How she loathed them.

Jace then grasped her hand firmly in his, pulling her up. The bed sheets fell to the floor, earning her another smile.

"Of all the crazy fashion trends, I like this one the best." She smacked him again, before gathering the blanket up and wrapping it around herself in a Greek style.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She winked back, before dancing around his arms and into the kitchen.

Once there, Clary found herself face to face with a pitifully empty pantry. Though she hated to admit it, it was an entire supermarket compared to her own food stores. She had always had better things to do with what little money she had, most of it gained from working odd jobs late at night, selling drugs, or even sleeping with people. This, she decided, would not be revealed to Jace.

Her attention returned once more to the measly food in front of her. She plucked a can of tomato soup from the cabinet before spotting the ripe mango on the counter. She squealed with glee as she reached for a knife from the block. Suddenly she stiffened as a pair of tanned arms circled her waist and an inhale of breath brushed across her cheekbone.

"Can I trust you with that Clary?"

"I'm just cutting it for breakfast." She reassured him. "You can watch me the whole time. Besides," Clary spun around in his arms. "You are the one who bought all of this junk. Soup and mangoes Jace, really? But, if it makes you feel better, I will heat the soup while you cut."

He mumbled a quiet thank you against her lips as he attacked her face with light pecks, dusting across her skin like freckles. They set about the kitchen, attempting to mask their poor cooking skills. Though it would seem an easy task, both Clary and Jace struggled in making the most basic of food. Laughter sounded across the room as soup was splattered and gooey fruit bits slipped from hands to the ground. The meal was completed a long while after it was started, gracing Clary with the darker freckles, flavored with tomato. She screamed and cursed when Jace swooped down to lick the contents off, praising the excellent taste.

Not long after, Clary and Jace sat in a comfortable silence as they ate. Every now and again they would sneak glances at each other, turning away before being caught.

"What?" She had asked him.

"I'm just glad that you're here now." Jace gave her a small smile.

Clary gazed out the window, tracing the patter of the stars across the endless ocean of black. Small flares would flicker in and out of existence as cars drove by, reflecting on the clear glass that separated her from the world. Here she was in control. Clary had hoped that she was separated from the harsh slash of reality, cocooned in a sort of haven. Even still, she craved to escape.

_Go out._

_Run!_

_He'll never know Clary. He is away now._

The words slithered from the dark pits of her mind, weaving through nerves and sending electric shocks through her. Jace had gone back out to the store, list in hand, telling her to conserve her strength and remain here.

_Do you really want to be held back?_

_Run to your pretty little friends and hide Clary, you know we will always find you._

She believed them. She hated them. She loved them.

Though their words tore at her like salted wounds, she had to listen to them. Dark images were swirling up around her, grasping her legs with melted hands. She saw her father, holding her down as she thrashed around. _This will feel good_, he had whispered into her ear. He had called her Jocelyn, her mother's name, as he lowered himself into her. She saw Jace, tangled with another girl from their high school, moaning in pleasure.

Tears ran from her eyes in rivulets of emotion. _Why would he have wanted you anyways? What makes you think you're any better than before?_

Demon faces twisted from the spilled ink on the desk. Their clawed hands grasping her with such force that black finger marks were left behind like a trail. Clary backed away from the snapping of teeth to find herself face to face with Jace's photo wall. The captured images morphed into mocking animations, pointing and screaming at her. The small cracks in the floor and walls were twisted into grotesque mouths, gnashing for her blood like vicious animals. Everywhere she turned Clary was met with horrific mutilations of what she hoped was reality.

"STOP IT!" She screamed out at last, clamping her hands over her ears.

The terror was relentless, attacking her with such brute force that her senses were unable to focus, leaving her in a delirium of confusion. Unable to take the suffocation anymore, Clary found herself rushing from the room with an extraordinary amount of strength. She crashed into walls, unable to properly register her surroundings. She felt the voices give chase, nipping at her heels and taunting her when she stumbled.

Clary made it down the elevator and out the doors in mere moments, not even pausing when the cold struck her. She was only wearing the black slip dress and boots from the day before, allowing the icy cold to slip under her skin, freezing her core. Lights blurred together in a mixture of white and red, reminiscent of a club. A musical cacophony stalked her, tearing holes in her mind. She found herself running wildly across a street, pestered by loud honks that swerved around her.

Suddenly a loud siren pierced through the air like a spear, freezing Clary in place like a dear in headlights. Time seemed to slow as her eyes focused on the red taillights ahead of her. She screamed when they were twisted into glaring demon eyes. Her terror did not last long as a screech pierced the air and something rammed into her side.

She felt herself floating, swimming through the air, and watching her hair gently glide across space. She was jerked back into reality with the sound of broken glass, battering her bones with a blast of pain. She had collided with a windshield. Despite the pain, adrenaline was her drug now, giving her the strength to launch herself away from the horror emerging from the vehicle.

She ignored the shouts from behind her as they faded into the noise of the city and crouching blackness. Clary needed silence. She needed the park.

She exhaled shakily, willing the peacefulness through her. She was walking through the grass of Central Park, avoiding the illuminated pathways. She needed solace. Clary wanted to be away from everything. She needed to escape everything. The air was moist and cool with fresh rain. The park smelled clean, allowing for easy breaths. Somewhere along the way, the knife-like voices had been lost in the chaos, drowning in the sea or sirens.

Her chest began to rise and fall with choked sobs. She struggled to free them, to let go of what little control remained. No matter how hard she commanded it, the tears would not come.

Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind, seizing her gruffly by the neck.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing out at this time." Putrid breath tickled her throat as she let out a whimper. The man laughed before shouting, "Come on out boys, we've go fresh meat!"

**I'm so sorry for not updating sooner. So many things have happened and I was taking finals and then on vacation. AHHHH I hope you liked it and that you will review. Love Among Blood should be updated soon as well! Also, you should check out my profile a vote for your favorite story ideas. Thanks!**


	10. Little Red Riding Hood

Red Riding Hood-

Dirty hands rubbed against her skin gruffly. The grime of the city had seemingly been forced into every pore and wrinkle they had. The hot breath of desire trailed up her neck, bringing back memories of her father holding her down. She could feel panic radiating off of her skin in waves of smoke, clouding her perception. Clary was being shoved around in a circle of men like one might a rag doll. As she was passed from one to the other, she earned the feeling of teeth and tongue on her moonlight skin.

No matter how much she wanted to escape, her mind remained unsteady, and the world an orchestra of madness. Every time something brushed against her flesh she would strike out at it, her reaction time slow. This only seemed to earn mocking laughs from the lips of her attackers, sounding like ghostly bells in a disintegrating clock tower.

"She's a tiny little thing isn't she?" One voice hissed in her ear, she felt his teeth graze her ear.

"I like this dress." Hands roamed up her thighs.

"I think I might rip her in half." A chorus of laughter followed in agreement.

A strangled whimper escaped her cracked lips when one of the men tugged roughly on the thin strap, snapping it from her shoulder. She felt like a small animal caught in an inescapable trap. Clary found her wrists seized in a vice-like grip, forcing her into a hard chest. She could feel snakes and vines twine into her limbs, securing her in place. When she glanced up at the face it was not a man she saw, but that of a beast. Rough chins and hooked noses had transformed into the long and twisted snouts of a wolf. Teeth snapped angrily as hungry tongues followed soon after. Brittle claws dug into her soft skin, bruising and tearing her flesh apart.

"Little Red, Little Red, take off your hood." A soft voice cooed in her ears. Her face was awash in the putrid smell of rotting flesh, trapped within powerful jaws: a nightmare straight out of one of Grimm's Fairytales.

Suddenly the other dress strap broke, allowing for the silken cloth to slip down further. A hard shove was planted firmly on her chest, and Clary found herself sprawled across the ground. Her head smacked painfully into the concrete, adding to the dizziness of swirling lights above. Clawed hands soon descended to her arms and legs, forcing them to stay still. Panic clouded her senses, drawing unwilling tears from her eyes. She knew exactly what would happen next, and she knew it would hurt. A lot.

Clary was forced over onto her stomach, rough gravel biting into her skin. She felt someone, the leader of the group press his body into hers.

"Little Red, Little Red, here I come." He growled into her ear.

Her head was smacked hard into the ground, making her see spots of ever-growing darkness. Her face was pressed into the earth so hard that she could feel rocks break the skin. She awaited the familiar and excruciating pain, trembling on the ground with dry sobs. It never came.

Liberation grazed over her like a fresh tidal wave of salted tears. She rolled over on her side, glimpsing images of violence and gold. Clary did not care about what was happening, she only wanted to sleep.

_Beep_

_…_

_Beep_

_…_

_Beep_

Clary was mildly annoyed that her alarm clock was on.

Clary hadn't used her alarm clock in years.

_Remember_, a voice cooed through her mind.

Clary's eyes flew open as the memories came flooding back. She regretted this decision immediately as she was greeted with the glare of fluorescent lights, forcing her eyes shut once more. She could see fireworks on the inside of her eyelids, left over from the sudden downpour of light. She let out a small moan at the aching the covered her body.

Almost immediately after, she felt a slight disturbance in the bed sheets and a warm hand enveloped her own.

"Clary…are you awake?"

Instead of replying, Clary fluttered her eyelashes like butterfly wings, more determined to open her eyes this time. At first, all she saw was a blinding light and a pale buzz in the air. Eventually the room came into focus, allowing her to differentiate colors and shapes. Jace's face flickered into view, a look of concern gracing his features with wide eyes.

"H-how do you feel?" His voice was like cracked charcoal.

"Like shit." Her voice sounded worse than his: like sandpaper rubbing over a million year old rock, chafing away until nothing was left but an endless void. Needless to say, her answer had been accurate.

Even so, Jace couldn't help but laugh at her bluntness, smiling as she rolled onto her side. His face fell when she sucked in a breath, returning to her back, eyes and mouth tight with pain.

"Clary-" He whispered "Clary I'm so sorry. I never should have left you alone."

His eyes raked her face in search of some unknown entity. She could see, quite plainly, his desperation; desperation for answers that she dreaded to give. The ultimate question being: What had driven out onto the street. Clary could imagine his face morph from concern to pity, his voice from affectionate to leering. She could not take that, not from him. Though she wanted to explain everything in hopes of retaining some aspect or hope for dignity, she instead resigned herself to an empty reassurance. Jace was not the one to blame; he needed to be kept somewhere safe in the dark from whatever it was that prowled her mind.

"No Jace, it wasn't your fault." Her words, though meant to be comforting, came up empty, showcasing her unrest. Jace's eyebrows rose in discontent but said no more on the subject.

They sat like that in silence for a time, each enjoying the pleasure of the other's company. Jace had joined her on the bed, absently stroking circles onto her shoulder. Clary's head rested on one of his arms, her hair gently touched with each breath he took. His voice shook her from her silence.

"Why did you disappear Clary? I came back to find the door askew and you gone. I was so worried when I couldn't find you that I called Magnus and Alec to help me search." He paused, releasing a breath from the encasement of his lungs. "I just don't understand what possessed you like that. When I saw those men I-I completely lost it. If Magnus and Alec hadn't been there, I would have killed all of them."

Jace had shifted so that he could look down at her face, scrutinizing every movement, no matter how small, as if on a treasure hunt for answers. Clary was paralyzed. She could not think of a way to force her mouth to answer truthfully. All those years she had been alone had allowed to create a safe chrysalis around her, shielding her from connection to others. The moment Jace had come back in her life she had felt as if someone had ripped open a second skin, allowing her to once more care for other people and what they were feeling. She would hate to disappoint him, show him how incredibly weak she was.

This fear drove her into her silence. As she looked up at him through her lashes, she could see how much he wanted the truth from her. Her throat refused the passage of any words. Clary then became aware that she was shaking, trembling with an uncontrollable desire for freedom. She wanted to let her nightmares free, feel the comfort of hope rise up from the depths of her failing heart. She wanted to feel better and catch a glimpse of happiness. For the first time in her life she felt the need to do better, improve, and upgrade.

She was terrified.

This was the reason she choked back all nouns, verbs, adjectives, and conjunctions. The only sound that was heard in the silent corridor was the choked sobs heaved into a golden boys shirt.

Clary sat quietly next to Jace on the subway home. She had been released after three days due to the fact that she was an adult and they could not legally force her to stay. Jace had supported this decision, though insisted she talk to someone about her more than obvious depression and self-harm. That was as much as he knew as of right now. She was still trying to figure out how to tell him about her hallucinations. She was hoping a psychologist would better advice for her and hopefully could prescribe something to help.

The train came to a sudden stop, lurching Clary sideways in her seat. If not for Jace's arm thrown about her shoulders, she would have fallen into her seat neighbors lap. Surprisingly Jace stood up, though she knew it was at least three stops before his normal one. Seeing her confusion, Jace answered her question.

"Isabelle has an extra room that she offered to us, I thought it might be a good idea to be around more people." He smiled softly, tugging her through the door.

"What about my things?"

"What thing? You didn't bring much to my place in the first place. If you give me your keys and address I can stop by and grab something."

The thought made her to shrink back into his side, knowing that he would be angered by her living conditions. Despite this, she nodded.

A short while later, they came to stop at what could only be sand colored apartment building with striking molding along the upper edges. There were small French doors that lead to private balconies on the uppermost 7th floor. It was nothing too expensive, though it held a certain charm.

As they entered the small vintage elevator, Clary asked What Isabelle did for a living.

"Isabelle works as a designer for a set of small, but successful, boutiques. Simon on the other hand is part of a moderately successful, though in my opinion talentless band, currently known as Upstream Color."

"They stayed together after high school?"

"Indeed, though the sea is often likely to bash your head against the rocks, somehow Simon manages to sail it safely through." He answered grinning. Clary could only laugh it his feeble attempt at poetic verse.

The elevator soon came to a stop with a worrisome clang, sending the couple on their way. Jace brought her to a red door at the end of the hallway, pressing a cool kiss to her forehead before knocking on the door. Clary couldn't help but listen to the loud ticking of an old clock in one of the apartments, sensing that it was counting down to something. With each click of the second hand, the hallway seemed to grow shorter and shorter, illuminating odd shadowed fangs along the carpet. Just as Clary's breathing began to change, the door was flung open by the unmistakable face of Clary's old best friend.

**I can't Believe I'm procrastinating over the summer. WTF to me! I recieved a comment about Jace and Clary's income. Clary's was already explained a little a few chapters back, buuuuuut there will be more soon. The same goes for Jace. **

**If any of you are worried that Clary's troubles will improve, I would just like to tell you that you are incorrect. The upcoming chapters will be lighter while still holding their fair share of batshit crazy! You're Welcome!**

**That being said, I hope you enjoyed it and will review!**


	11. Time's Tailor

**I updated chapter 2 for those of you interested (I'm not counting the prologue as a chapter). I mostly edited and improved the writing overall. The first chapters were SUPER rushed soooo yeah!**

**Soooo... I meant this to be a lighter chapter, but that didn't go so well. In my opinion this is the heaviest peice I have ever written. Sorry. On another note, Please Enjoy!**

Time's Tailor-

Clary lay in the stagnant water that had run cold long ago. Her body was curled to the side, completely submerged in water with a near constant tremor. Her hair, swept up in a messy bun, now floated in the water alongside her face. Hot fire against frozen skin gently stroked through the water, disturbing it's peace. Unfortunately for Clary, her hair color did little for the permanent chill that now resided on her body.

Taking a deep breath, she dunked her head under the water, furthering her hair's unkempt manor. When her shoulder blades reached the porcelain floor, Clary opened her eyes, gazing at the surface. Everything seemed as if in slow motion. Tendrils of seaweed hair floated across her vision, clouding everything with red. She could see the fine layer of grime that had collected at the surface. Instead of disgusting her, it managed to refract light in the same way the sunlight dust does. She felt like an ocean plant, waving with the currents as numerous plankton and fish swam by. She thought that that would be a lovely life, aside from the fact that she would be trapped under millions of tons of water, unable to move. The idea no longer seemed like a good one.

Clary's lungs began to burn now, though she chose to ignore it, and allowed her eyes to follow the cracks in the ceiling like hiking trails. She imagined that she was walking alongside a canyon, searching for wildlife. A shadow crossed over her, tearing her from her dream-like reality. She suddenly pushed herself from the floor, breaking the surface with desperate gasps for air. She pushed herself into a fetal position at the far corner, closest to the wall. The _thing_ that had been standing beside the door, keeping her trapped in the cold water, had moved. She could feel its eyes crawling over her like rat-tails, hungrily searching the flesh for something unknown. It trailed its spider web fingers through the water, sending small ripples toward her. She heard small whispers coming from its carnivorous lips: _Don't let them get you. Don't let them get you. Don't trust…_

It trailed off midsentence, moving closer to her frail body. She shrank back as much as she could, muffling the sobs emanating from inside her. Tears ran slow tracks down her cheeks, hovering at her chin before continuing on to the abyss below. A sob caught in her throat as its fingers grasped her leg, sliding across the smooth skin and following the veins. She came to the realization that it was treating her like a pet, stroking her like one would to calm an animal. Clary wanted to yell, she wanted to scream and scream until it would go away, though by some act of cruelty, Clary could not find her voice. Only small sniffs and gasps could be heard from the girl cowering from the possessive darkness.

"Clary!" Jace was there before her, standing where the shadow had previously been. Concern was awash in his features as he noted the tension in her curled up body.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Jace broke the silence first.

"When I came in you weren't here Clare. It scared me." His eyes flicked down to his tightly crossed hands, lashes casting elongated shadows down his cheeks. "What were you seeing?"

Clary had shifted so that her back pressed against the edge of the tub, facing the wall. Jace was kneeling at the other end, looking for something in her eyes that would comfort him.

"It was nothing. Just a trick of the light." Her voice was soft as a feather blown away to nothingness by a warm desert breeze. She felt as if her throat was crusted over with dry sand, leaving her in a perpetual state of insatiable thirst.

"You've been dodging all of my questions. You've been dodging Isabelle, Simon, Alec, and Magnus for days now. We are all worried about you Clare. None of us know what to do because we are terrified of scaring you. You scare us Clare. You scare us all."

"I'm sorry." Was all she could manage. _Pathetic._

"Sorry for what?" his voice rose, "Something is seriously wrong with you and you won't even throw a bone to any of us! This is not normal." He roughly grabbed her arm, pointing to the numerous marks, both new and old, that marred her wrists. "I don't know what to do. Hell, I've never known what to do! Just-just tell my why. Why did you leave my apartment? What is it that makes you hide when you're all alone?" He paused, letting out a long overdue breath. "Why are hiding from me?" His voice was softer now, soothing, though desperation clawed at his throat.

"I'm insane." Two words that terrified her more than anything her mind could conjure up. Two words that she feared would drive Jace from her life. _No one wants a sick girl. No one wants you._

Jace slowly moved so that he was now kneeling behind her, brushing the damp hair from the back of her neck. He kissed behind her ear gently, brushing his nose up her neck to nuzzle into her temple.

"_They_ are always with me. I can hear them everywhere." She pressed back into him, turning her head so that she could see his face. "I try to ignore them but- oh god I can't!"

"Hey, it's okay. You can trust me and you know that."

"You're going to hate me. If you don't already than soon." Clary felt hot tears at the brim of her eyes.

Warm fingers brushed under her chin, moving her face up to meet his. She refused to look into his eyes, instead focusing on his cheek. "Look at me Clary." She ever so slowly began the journey to reach the summit of molten gold. "Is this the face of someone who hates you?"

"No." She barely whispered.

"That's right Clary. I love you. That is the truth. It will never change. I need you to promise me that you will never doubt this. Whatever cruel thoughts may run through your head, know that I am still here. Yes?"

She shook her head slightly and sniffed. "Hand me a towel?" Jace gently placed it around her shoulder, patting it over her body as she rose from the tub.

"Lets get you something warm to eat and then to sleep." He kissed her forehead before leaving her to dress. She trifled through his shirts until she found a dark grey sweater. Slipping it on lightly, she inhaled Jace's scent before pulling on yoga pants that Isabelle had given her. Stepping out of their room, Clary padded quietly to the kitchen, feeling the soft squish of carpet between her toes. Jace stood at the counter, facing away from her, preparing canned alphabet soup. She smiled softly, remembering how he would always bring her the childish delicacy to cheer her up. He knew it had always been her favorite, a sort of way to give her pieces of a lost childhood.

Slipping her hands over his chest, she pressed her cheek into his back. She heard him chuckle as he finished pouring her dinner into a bowl and placed it in the microwave.

"Take better care of yourself _Fray_. You deserve it."

Clary only smiled up at him before turning to sit in one of the barstools around the counter. Once Jace had placed the soup on the counter, she began to dutifully spoon it into her mouth, savoring each salty sip and gooey noodle bite. Clary heard a door close behind her and felt the weight of eyes on her back. Jace, who had been watching her carefully, laughing when she spilled or slurped, left the room with a smile. Not long after, Isabelle made her presence known as she perched atop another stool.

She sat with her legs curled to her chest, head tilted in a bird-like manner. Curious doe eyes moved over her body in a way that one would a foreign object. Neither of the girls knew anything about the other and were not quite sure how to address it. Clary had seen and spoken to Isabelle very little since her arrival, dodging questions and darting into rooms when the other girl passed. Isabelle broke the silence first.

"You look thin." The words were Isabelle in every manner Clary could think of. To the point and demanding.

"I suppose." Clary responded in a way equally as accurate to her personality; quiet and overlooked.

"I mean that you've always been small-but you always looked healthy. Happy even. Though I suppose you never really were." She gestured to the markings on Clary's wrist, the sweater now bunched at the elbow. Clary made no move to acknowledge the words, and instead stared at her spoon, unmoving and cold.

"Things ended badly between us Clare…I wanted to fix it."

"You said wanted, as in past tense. Do you not want to now?"

Isabelle laughed, scolding Clary with a little '_You know what I mean'._

There was a long silence.

"What happened Clare? You disappeared on me."

"I don't really know. I think my thoughts were so clustered and I was so wrapped up in the depths of my mind that I forgot how to live. I loathed my heart for continuing to beat while my mind screamed at it to stop." She looked down, "I still am like that, I don't deserve good things. That's why I can't stop running." Clary gave a small hum of disappointment, clasping her hands so that the nails cut into her palms, nearly drawing blood.

Clary hated this. She despised that she would open up to people, lead them on only to continue down the same path. She had always regretted telling people anything, not because she would drag them down, but because they were her secrets, her own and no one else's. She didn't want people to know anything about her because they were pieces of who she was, she didn't belong _to_ someone, she simply was someone, this was a fact that she would never change. Though she hated knowing that her psyche was ripping itself apart, tearing the strings that held her together one by one, she couldn't bring herself to want to change it.

She knew she was the way she was because of some chemical imbalance, rushing about and misconstruing all logic. Perhaps it had been brought on by the onslaught of childhood trauma, or, to put it simply, just shitty genetics. Based on her parentage she did not doubt it.

Despite this, she couldn't help but fear treatments of any kind. Her shadow friends had been with her for as long as she could remember. They may not have interacted until she was older, but they were there nonetheless. A constant in her hurricane of blinding light and bloody tears, offering the only refuge she could find in her life. Her entire identity had been built around insanity and to let it go meant ceasing to exist. She would no longer have anything and the idea of starting from scratch was too horrible to consider bearing.

Clary was a bad person. She felt it in ever vein, every joint, every ribbed cage and muscle. What made it all the worse was that she hated the idea of getting better, of reaching some standard of normal, some modicum of relief. All that would be left would be a fleshy structure of a young girl. Soulless. Nothing. Desperate. An ache that could not, should not, be repaired. Her indecisiveness angered her. She wanted everything to leave and yet was terrified of being alone.

She was a girl caught in space between two planets of equal pull.

In that moment Clary took a crushing blow as reality settled. Her mind had never been more certain than in this instant. She was going to be ripped apart in whatever place she eventually fell. The men in white coats would surround her, converging on all sides like little mice. She would end up an old rat, playing the same games everyday, for infinity, before finally being graced with the cool kiss of death. She was tailored, cut out by time, to realize her only purpose was to die. If this was to be her fate than by definition, Clary was dead.

She had always been dead, from the moment of her first baby breath to the odd circumstance she currently faced, and only just realized it.

In that moment of clarity, Clary couldn't help but realize the perfection of evolution's design. Everything had to die. In a moment the universe had burst into existence and creatures climbed from the ground. Each and every age had its time, only to vanish a moment later. Entire species went extinct and no one batted an eye. The only point to being alive was to die. To end. And then the nothingness would rise and swallow all. It was inevitable for everyone, though they were allowed some shard of control. They had the ability to love and enjoy and explore. Clare had always been stuck at the brink of a black hole. Her era was coming to an end before even starting. She was nothing and she never would be. Nothing mattered and it never would. Not in the actuality of time and endless space.

Clary chuckled dryly as she remembered that this entire existential crisis had been brought on by a simple conversation with her ex-best friend.


	12. Stained Crystal

Stained Crystal:

The room rotated in a slow dance, painstakingly circling around the supposed aroma of safety. The fluorescent lights of the doctor's office flickered unsteadily overhead with an uneasy buzz. A fly's wings beat at the air like a boxing ring, creating an obnoxious drone to weld the sounds of the room into one piece of poorly executed sheet music.

"Clary!" The doctors scolding voice brought her out of her daze like the bite of a bucket of water. "You disappeared inside your head again." Her voice was softer now, though it still contained an unappealing edge.

Clary had to admit to herself; she always ended up in the vortex of her conscious. She couldn't help it though; boring people drove her away like she was a witch in Salem. This particular habit had drove most people off from her, claiming that she was uncaring and distant. It hadn't been an inaccurate observation on their part: She simply didn't care about most things and found her own company was often far more interesting. She had no intention of changing it.

"What was it that caught you in its web this time?" The doctor was exasperated, clearly showing annoyance and impatience by the unashamed clicking of her pen. Each pop was like thunder to Clary's ears, furthering her distraction.

"The buzzing." Was all she cared to say.

"What buzzing?"

"The fly… And the light, and the vents, _and_ your pen." Clary made a point of glaring at the woman's hands, who hastily stopped in embarrassment.

Racing t catch her thoughts from Clary's hostility, the woman diverted her attention with another question. "Does this happen often?"

"Does _what _happen often?"

"Do sounds and other sensory detections seem extremely escalated? Does it seem like all of your focus is one particular sense, almost to the point where you feel others cannot detect the details you do?" She clarified.

"Maybe… Or maybe it's just that I would rather listen to the horrid drone of this ill kempt building rather than pointless questions like this." Clary's gaze burned holes into the woman's muddy eyes. "I'm fine." Clary was final about this.

"Miss Morgenstern," She took her glasses off "From what Mr. Herondale has told me, you are quite far from fine. Your self-harming has alarmed him, making him reach out for any kind of help. I am here to be just that, though I can only do so if _you _are willing to be helped. All I ask is that you give it a try. I can only change to suit your needs if you allow me to assess what they are." Her eyes flickered back to Clary's.

Sweeping her blond hair to the side, the doctor leaned back as if deep in thought. It suddenly came to Clary that she couldn't remember the woman's name…or even being introduced to her. All she knew was that she was here now and had developed a disliking to the woman.

_'Why am I here?'_ She thought with a frown.

_'Because of Jace.'_ Another voice responded.

She was here; she was talking to some nameless psychiatrists because of him. He had asked her to try it out for his sake and she had agreed. She would simply do anything for him, no matter the pain and discomfort it caused her. He could never know that she felt this way, afraid that he might feel guilty. Clary knew that she was already such a burden for him to carry, and she couldn't allow that to fall on his shoulders anymore than it already had. She looked down at her hands in shame.

"All right Clarissa," The woman had figured out that this was going nowhere that day. "We will take small steps from here. Humor me, if you will. I'd like for you to do some self-reflection. Next time we meet, I would like for to share something with me, even if it makes you uncomfortable. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Jace. He brought you here with hope and I would hate to let him down."

_'Low blow.' _Clary thought.

She was going to use Jace, her safeguard and protector, to force her to open up. The very thought was appalling, sickening Clary to her very core.

The woman brought her fingers to her chin, resting her face there. Her eyes raked over Clary, attempting to gauge her reaction. Clary remained stoic.

"I think it's painfully obvious that you suffer from severe depression. I would like to start you on a low dosage of Sertraline to begin with. Jace will have to handle your medication, seeing as it may pose a threat to your personal safety in your current state of mind."

Her cold stare cut through Clary's ribs and buried itself inside her bones. Viscous magma seeped anger through her blood stream, penetrating every corner of her body. The thought of _this_ vile woman, this doctor, pawing through her head like a cat with string, was unimaginable. Clary knew that she would claw at her delicate psyche and uproot her shadows with happy pills. Clary's skin was crawling with millions of centipede legs. These were the secrets of her heart, of her being. They were her secrets, ones she would never tell as they festered and took over her light, and her stability. They were hers, no one else's, and she desperately intended to keep them.

"I believe that if we can delve into your past, we can determine the cause of your… _condition."_

She made it seem like this was going to be a group effort. Like some childish game that one would play in their elementary years. It was a game of Hide-and-go-seek with a far more dangerous and deadly double-edged sword. But Clary knew better. She knew that she had always been like this. Even at a very young age, before the abuse set in, Clary had always been different. She had never been quite as happy as the other children, her smiles never reaching her eyes. Always empty, devoid of most emotion.

The voices had always been there, buried deep down in the caverns of her chest like imaginary friends unfit for the present. That had been her first mistake, bottling them up. In the forgotten other-lands they had grown, spreading their fingers into ever crevice of her body. They had nearly broken their cage when her father came along, holding the key to her destruction in a simple hit, allowing their escape. It had set loose the monster they had created together. Ironically enough, it was the only father-daughter project or interaction they had ever had.

Clary laughed aloud, ignoring the curious stares that were shot her way. She bottled up her story and sent it out to sea where that woman couldn't find it.

Clary stood up, smoothing her short skirt along her thighs, before pushing out the door. The moment the hinges creaked, Jace was by her side.

"How did it go?"

Clary shook her head with a small smile. Jace let out a huff, kissing her forehead while interlacing their fingers. He pulled her through the door and down the stairs, swinging their hands as he went.

When they had safely reached Central Park, he turned to Clary. "What happened?" He caught a stray curl in the wind and tucked it behind her ear.

Clary looked at him a moment before sighing and deciding to tell him thr truth. As much as she hated the doctor, she had been right about one thing. Clary needed to do this for him.

"She tried to blackmail me, using you as leverage." She looked down. "It was horrible."

Jace's jaw had noticeably tightened. His hand contracted around hers in a near painful grip.

"I'm so sorry." He pulled her to his chest, tucking her face under his chin.

"It isn't your fault, Jace. There are other doctors out there."

He pulled back. "I only want to do this if you want to. Therapy can only work if the patient is willing to try."

Clary couldn't meet his eyes, attempting to brush away the tears on her cheeks and hide the frown without his notice

"Hey! Clary what's wrong?" His thumb caught at the little crystals on her cheeks, rubbing over her cheekbones to sooth her nerves.

"I'm scared." Her voice was thick with sadness. "I hate this-I do- I want to be different, happy. Every time I think about recovering, I just can't bear it. I've always been like this and I don't know if I would still be me. It's stupid- I know it is-" She ignored his protests. "I just don't want to tell anyone. I really can't bring myself to do it."

"You don't have to talk to someone Clary-"

"Yes! Yes I do. I know that if I keep going like this, either my body or mind will give out. I'll end up dead anyway. I want to be happy, Jace, I-I really do. I want to be good for you."

His face was contorted with pain, sending knives to Clary's heart. "I don't know what to do. Please tell me what I can do for you. It scares me to see you lost like this." He brought his forehead to meet his, cupping the back of her head with his hand.

"I don't know." She stated. "Maybe we can try finding another doctor- one who doesn't have her own trouble." Clary laughed harshly at her poor excuse of a joke, earning a smile from Jace.

"We can try." He began pulling Clary forward again. Walking towards the apartment.

"Jace?" She called.

"Yes." He turned to her once more.

"What was the doctors name?"

Jace laughed then. Really laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, dimples deepening considerably. He pressed his lips to hers with the lightest of touches.

"That's my girl!" And they walked the rest of the way home.

**Okay! She's finally starting to make steps toward recovery! YAY CLARY!... Unfortunately I'm an asshole and will mess with your feelings like none other in upcoming chapters *evil laugh. I didn't really want to keep you guys waiting, so I didn't edit this chapter at all, whatevs (also I'm lazy J)**

**Review! Review! Review!**


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